Tightrope
by evenonacloudyday
Summary: Special Agent Kristina Kent joins the BAU after her partner is forced into early retirement. The team's interest is piqued with this new addition to the family. She's definitely hiding something, and they're bound and determined to figure out what it is.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner sat behind his desk in his office, carefully looking over a file with all the paperwork from the team's most recent case. If even one detail was overlooked, the entire prosecution could be deemed fallible. As a former prosecution attorney, the hardened father knew this more than most.

Lost in concentration, he didn't even notice that Agent Jareau had slipped through his open office door and now stood before him, holding another manila folder.

"Hotch," she brought him back to reality, "Strauss sent me this to give to you."

Aaron looked up at the young blonde, who had recently stepped up and was pulling double duty as both media liaison and a full-fledged Agent in the BAU. She was a parent, as well- her son Henry had recently turned four. She handled her position with an exceptional amount of poise and fervor. He was proud of every member in the BAU, but Jennifer had by far shown the most growth in the past few years.

"What is it?" he remained stone-faced, fully aware that every file that passed through his door was potentially another life lost. Jennifer shrugged.

"I don't know, but she told me to give it to you. I can look at it if you're busy..." she noticed the stack of files on his desk, but he waved her off.

"No, no, I'll get to it. Thanks anyway, JJ."

He offered a weak smile, and the younger agent dismissed herself. As she exited his office, she cast a quick glance over the bullpen. It was nearly 6 o'clock, and without a working case, the rest of the team was getting ready to leave.

Dr. Spencer Reid, the youngest of the team at thirty-one years old and by far the most intelligent, had finished reading over his share of the files hours ago. He had an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, which allowed him to read up to 20,000 words per minute. However slightly socially awkward Reid was, the team had become his family over the past seven years. He remained at his desk and playfully bantered with the other Agents.

"Hey, Morgan, you want some help with those?" He prodded the tall, dark, and handsome SSA, who flashed a grin and shook his head.

"Nah, thanks Reid. This is my last one."

Reid attempted to crane his neck and read over Derek's shoulder, which made him pause.

"You want me to smack you?" He playfully threatened, wielding the case file in his right hand, ready to strike. Reid took this opportunity to turn to SSA Emily Prentiss, a dark-haired, fair-skinned linguistics expert and child advocate. She put on a tan peacoat over her black turtleneck, then smiled at the young Doctor.

"Reid, any plans this weekend?"

He shook his head.

"I'll probably just read." he admitted.

Emily took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Same...I can't wait to just relax, for once."

Behind Emily, a short, stout woman wearing bright pink fuzzy headband, purple, thick-framed glasses, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat interjected.

"Oh, don't count on it. You know the Universe likes to ruin our weekends. You ready to go, Em?" Penelope looked up at Jennifer, who had since returned to her office and retrieved her belongings. "JJ, let's get out of here!"

Jennifer laughed, pulling her office door shut and taking one last peek inside their leader's dimly lit office.

"You sure you don't need any help, Hotch?"

Aaron looked up from the file with a furrow in his brow.

"I'm sure, JJ...you go enjoy your weekend."

The knowing mother cocked her head to the side, not needing to profile him to know something was definitely amiss. Still, it was not her place to pry. If it was important, he could tell her when she came back in on Monday.

Jennifer, Garcia, and Emily walked out to the parking lot together on most nights and generally parted ways- Jennifer and Emily getting into their own FBI standard issue black SUVs and Penelope in her beloved jalopy named Esther. Tonight, however, was a special night- Henry's father, Will Lamontague, had Jennifer's pride and joy in New Orleans for the weekend. It wasn't often that the busy FBI agent had girl time, so every other weekend the girls of the BAU would gather at the Jareau residence, drink wine, and gossip. The last three attempts at their Girls' Nights had been interrupted by gruesome cases that required their immediate attention.

Their caravan drove across town to a small suburb just outside of DC, where JJ's picturesque three-bedroom house sat among a row of nearly-identical houses.

Once inside, the thirty-four-year-old immediately found the wine cabinet and pulled a '94 Pinot Noir from the shelf. Prentiss and Garcia followed behind her, tossed their coats on the coat hanger by the door and entered the kitchen, which looked vaguely like a tornado had swept through on its way to the living room. Jennifer seemed to live a sort of double life: organized, thorough profiler by day, and loving, single mother of a four-year-old Tasmanian Devil by night.

Emily's eyes lit up upon seeing the bottle of Pinot in her co-worker's hand.

"Is that a '94?"

Jennifer had to chuckle as she reached into one of her kitchen cabinets and retrieved three large wine glasses. Emily, an ambassador's daughter, was quite the wine enthusiast.

"Yeah...was that a good year?"

"I'll say...that was the year my mother spent an entire summer in Paris on assignment and i spent an entire summer after graduation getting trashed and eating lobster in Maine." she laughed, while JJ poured the rich, dark red wine into each glass with her back turned to the other girls.

"Let's see, in '94 i was...a sophomore in high school, the first sophomore to start on the Varsity soccer team."

Emily stopped in her tracks, and winced.

"Oh God, don't tell me that."

"What?"

Emily sighed as she pulled out a barstool to sit at JJ's kitchen counter.

"You're so _young_...and i'm so _old_."

"You are not old," Penelope corrected her, "stop that. Tonight is supposed to be fun, remember?" The tech analyst grabbed two glasses of wine and handed one to the pouting agent. Emily conceded, knowing there was no use arguing with Garcia.

"Okay, fine, let's talk about something else. Hey, Jayje, how was it having Will around last week?"

JJ paused, having flashbacks of Will's visit: stiff greetings, lifted toilet seats, awkward silences at dinner...which was still better than the argument they had just before he left. He wanted to see Henry more often, but was still adamant that he was not leaving New Orleans. The insinuation that she would drop everything and leave DC, her job, and her family nearly made Jennifer's blood boil.

"I don't wanna talk about it, Em." She took a swig of wine. "New subject."

Both agents turned to Penelope, who stopped mid-sip and realized that her friends were looking at her expectantly.

"Oh, me?" She set down the glass. "Well, while you guys were in Atlanta, I heard something I think you guys might find interesting..." she wiggled her eyebrows, basking in the suspense. When neither of her friends bit, she tried again.

"Don't you wanna know what it is?"

JJ chuckled, and finally humored her.

"Okay, Pen, what is it?"

"A new transfer!" she grinned, getting excited.

"What?" Emily interjected. "Who?"

"All I have is a name," Penelope explained, "Kristina Kent."

Emily chuckled.

"Is her father a reporter at the Daily Planet?"

"Wouldn't that be a twist?" Garcia shot back, taking another sip of wine.

"I wonder if that was the file Strauss gave me to give Hotch tonight...and why she treated it like a national secret?" JJ wondered out loud, but Garcia stopped her.

"Okay, I can't take it...let's look her up."

JJ retrieved her laptop and handed it over to the tech wizard. Within seconds, Garcia had remotely accessed the FBI database and typed the new girl's name into the search engine.

"Okay, Kristina Marie Kent. Born August 4th, 1978- 33 years old-" Garcia began, reading off the file- "grew up in San Pablo, California. Her father is a retired teacher, her mom was a homemaker...Graduated from UC-Berkeley with degrees in criminology and abnormal psychology. Joined the FBI immediately after graduating..."

Emily peeked over her shoulder.

"She speaks fluent French, interesting..."

"Look at this, Em," Garcia scrolled down, "It says here that she first applied to the BAU, but they told her no. She partnered up with Special Agent Frank Washer, haven't I heard you mention him before?"

Emily chuckled.

"Oh, Frank...yeah, I know him. We were in the academy together."

"Can you call him?"

"No, I'm not going to call him!" Emily laughed. "I haven't seen him in years."

"Well, he's retired now," Garcia explained, "bum knee. I guess that's why she re-applied. She seemed plenty qualified for the job."

JJ snuck behind Garcia and looked at the stock photo on file: she had a golden tan, with exotic, piercing hazel cat-like eyes and long, chocolate, wavy locks.

"Okay, seriously, there has to be something wrong with this girl." she decided, resting her left hand on Penelope's shoulder. "Dig deeper, Pen. No one is this perfect."

"Your wish is my command, Jayje" Garcia hit a few more keys at lightning speed, then paused when a police report flashed on her screen.

"Oh no..."

The report was from an unsolved murder from 1999; a sixteen-year-old girl was found in her home, brutally stabbed 27 times, with no witnesses or suspects on record. The victim's name: Bridget Kent.

"Oh God..." Garcia covered her mouth in horror, shutting the laptop immediately.

"You guys, we shouldn't have done that." she whispered, her voice shaking. Emily tried her best to console her emotional friend, draping an arm over her shoulder.

"We couldn't have known, Garcia..."

"I guess we know why she joined the FBI." Garcia added, still somber.

Jennifer bit her lip, painful memories creeping into her subconscious. She, too, had lost a sister; when Jennifer was eleven her older sister Rebecca committed suicide. Unlike Kristina, however, JJ knew that ultimately there was no one to blame for what happened. She couldn't imagine how much worse it must be to lie awake at night knowing that the person responsible was still out there.

"I think I'm gonna need another glass of wine." She declared, grabbing the bottle and replenishing her glass. She offered some to Penelope, who threw up her hands.

"I better not...remember what happens to me when I drink too much wine?"

Emily, however, held out her glass for a refill.

"Fill 'er up, JJ." she sighed, resting her chin on her hand propped up by her elbow. "I wonder when this new girl is transferring?"

As JJ filled Emily's glass, she bit her lip, careful not to spill the undoubtedly magnificent wine.

"She'll probably start on Monday."

"We'll get to size her up then." The older agent's impish smile lifted the mood.

"She's gorgeous," Garcia noted, "and it'll be fun having another girl around."

Jennifer sighed.

"It'll probably make my job a little easier."

Emily immediately noticed Jennifer's shift in mood.

"Hey, JJ, no one could ever replace you."

Garcia nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, Jayje, don't even worry about that."

The blonde mother took another sip of wine, trying to shove the insecurities to the back of her mind. She hadn't even been a Special Agent for an entire year yet, but had been working with this team for eight years. They were her family. She was fiercely protective of them. From an administrative standpoint, it made sense to add another agent to the unit. From a chemistry standpoint...they were a well-oiled machine and adding another cog to that machine could either make or break the team.

Another sip of wine and JJ was determined to get Special Agent Kristina Kent alone first thing on Monday, to figure out which way this transfer was going and nip any problems in the butt before they even start.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

There was a light breeze nipping at Jennifer's trench coat as she hurried from the parking lot to the employee entrance of the FBI headquarters on Monday morning. She quickly swiped her clearance card and entered the building, whisking through the tight, cramped hallway and stopping in front of the elevator, where a familiar face was waiting for the car to reach the first floor.

"Hey, Spence!" JJ greeted him warmly, gently grabbing his left arm and pulling him in for a hug. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"Hi JJ...you're freezing." he noted, observing her bright red cheeks.

"I parked outside." she explained as the elevator reached the lobby.

Both profilers stepped inside, joined by a couple of stuffy co-workers from the fifth floor. Spencer hit both buttons, and Jennifer lowered her voice.

"So did you hear about the transfer?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, Morgan told me. I heard she's coming in this morning."

As the car reached the six floor- the BAU's floor- spencer held the door open for JJ.

They walked through another set of doors to the bullpen, where Emily and Derek were waiting, impatiently pacing between their desks.

"Is she here yet?" JJ asked both agents as she scanned the bullpen, no sign of any new faces. Morgan finally stopped pacing, folded his arms, and leaned against his desk.

"She's up in Hotch's office, with Strauss...what do we know about this girl?"

JJ's eyes darted over in Emily's direction, not soon forgetting what they had discovered on Saturday night. She took a deep breath.

"She originally applied to the BAU, but got shot down because she didn't have enough experience."

"And now she's back." Derek frowned, obviously displeased with all the secrecy.

"Morgan..." Emily scolded him, and he unfolded his arms.

"Fine, you're right- i should give her a fair chance."

The team's pow-wow was interrupted when Jennifer's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She had one new text, from their team's fearless leader.

"Be right back, guys." She gave them a reassuring smile. Aaron stood at the front of his office with the new girl, hoping his most personable Agent would give Kristina a warm welcome to the BAU.

Jennifer readied herself as she scaled the steps, where Special Agent Kristina Kent stood, looking positively no-nonsense in a black blazer and slacks.

"Thank you, JJ." Hotch excused himself, leaving the agents alone.

First impressions- Jennifer could immediately tell that Agent Kent was hiding something. Behind those fierce, hazel eyes was a steel fortress. It was Agent Jareau's job to read between the lines, but even she could not quite get a read on the newest member of the team. Still, she held out her hand, a momentary moratorium on the mystery behind Kristina Kent.

"Jennifer Jareau. You can call me JJ."

For the first time, she caught a glimpse behind the fortress when a hint of a smile spread across the brunette's lips.

"Hello, Jennifer. I'm Kristina Kent."

"Right this way, Agent Kent." Jennifer directed her down the hallway, pointing out each office as she passed. "You've already seen SSA Hotchner's office, then there's SSA Rossi and Chief Strauss's office..." Kristina followed closely behind her as she entered the bullpen. Jennifer stopped in front of the only unoccupied workspace.

"This will be your desk, you've got SSAs Morgan and Prentiss, and Dr. Reid." She motioned to each cluttered desk as she said their names. Kristina chuckled.

"Where did they all go?"

"Who knows..." Jennifer smiled, guessing that they had probably gone across the street for coffee to help ease them out of their weekend and into an undoubtedly stressful work week.

Kristina set her bag at her desk, and Jennifer let out a deep breath.

"Okay, that's pretty much it...there's just some paperwork you need to fill out, we can do that in my office."

The new girl offered another cryptic smile.

* * *

><p>Jennifer's blue office walls almost matched the color of her eyes, it seemed, when Kristina first set foot inside. Upon closer inspection, she noted that the media liaison was either months behind on her paperwork or was a bit of a pack rat- dozens upon dozens of manila folders with an FBI insignia on the front formed the Everest of file mountains on her desk. She had not one, but three coats hanging from the black iron coat rack- one for every season. Several to-go coffee cups were in the trash can, along with an empty bag of Cheetos and several balled up pieces of paper. The other half of the admittedly small room had a tan duvet, a small office chair, and a window that had an excellent view of the parking lot. If Kristina had been profiling her, she would not hesitate to conclude that Miss Jennifer Jareau was overworked, stressed, and- as she noticed a 4-by-6 picture frame of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little boy- feeling a little guilty like any good mother does for spending so much time away from her son.<p>

As it were, Kristina sat in front of her desk as JJ handed her the disclaimer form, which basically signed her life away to the BAU. She didn't mind. She'd given her life to the FBI almost thirteen years ago. The blonde agent watched her intently as she filled it out, which did not go unnoticed.

"Are you profiling me?" She looked up from the file, squinting her eyes at the Special Agent. Jennifer quickly diverted her eyes.

"Sorry, force of habit." She apologized with a laugh.

"Listen, if you need to know anything about me, you can just ask, Jennifer." Kristina shot back, then pulled back when she realized how harsh she had sounded.

"I just don't like being psychoanalyzed."

"We have that in common." Jennifer chuckled, remembering all the times the team had pulled her aside on a bad day, hell-bent on discovering all her dirty secrets.

Kristina signed her name in large, loopy cursive.

"So when do I start?"

JJ glanced over at the digital clock on the wall.

"Briefing is in the conference room in... three minutes. Come on, I'll walk with you."

They walked past the offices to the largest room at the end of the hallway. There was a small dark mahogany table with several chairs around it, three of which were already occupied, each toting a cup of coffee in their right hand.

"Um, guys, this is Agent Kristina Kent." Jennifer quickly introduced her. The first to offer her hand was an older female, probably in her early forties, who wore a beige turtleneck and a big, winning smile.

"Emily Prentiss," she smiled even bigger, perhaps overselling the hospitality so that the others would follow suit. The two others, both men, stood after SSA Prentiss's lead.

SSA Derek Morgan was quite the specimen- tall, with dark chocolate skin and pure toned muscle, it was easy to pinpoint him as the enforcer of the group. Dr. Spencer Reid was a literal yin to Morgan's yang. A beanpole with bottle-cap glasses in a sweater vest, Dr. Reid was young but undoubtedly the most intelligent person in the room.

Behind them, an older Italian man in a blazer and blue jeans rushed into the conference room.

"Am I late?"

Agent Prentiss shook her head.

"You're just in time, Hotch will be here in just a sec."

"Oh, good. Traffic was a pain this morning." He huffed, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up and met Kristina's eye, he gasped.

"Well, look who it is!"

Kristina couldn't help but grin.

"Dave, it's been too long."

He crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug.

"What, seven years? How have you been?"

Jennifer cast a questioning glance across the table, and the others shrugged in response as Kristina replied.

"Seven years, wow...I've been good, y'know, working pretty much non-stop."

Rossi paused, noting the confusion amongst the other members of the team.

"Guys, Kristina here was one of my first students." he explained. "You must've been what, eighteen at the time? I was teaching classes in California, and this one showed up for every single class."

JJ was slowly starting to put the pieces together.

"The youngest person to go out in the field in FBI history." Reid offered, twirling a pen in his right hand. "Twenty-one years, four months, and ten days."

Emily shot a glance over at the boy genius, wondering what else he knew that he wasn't telling them. Her guess-everything.

"We're glad to have you." Rossi assured her, offering her a chair and then sitting down next to her.

"Where's Hotch?"

"Right here," he shuffled to the front of the room, quickly adjusted his tie, and cleared his throat, "let's get started."

The team directed their attention to the large computer screen behind him, where there were three gruesome photos of young women.

"Columbus, Ohio. Alicia Gray, Patty Priestly, and Christy Carlsbad were found in this field along route 104 yesterday."

Agent Jareau clicked the remote to show the next slide: a close-up shot of the victims' bloody wrists, ankles, and throats.

"The ME has determined that the initial slashing of the throat is the cause of death for all three victims. The cuts on the wrists and ankles were post-mortem."

"Overkill." Morgan, an expert on obsessive behavior, noted immediately.

"And a dump site suggests an organized kill." Prentiss sighed. "How many days apart is he killing these women?"

"Three days." Jennifer clicked to the next slide, with three stock photos of the victims; each in their mid-twenties but with varying ethnicities and body types.

"85 percent of serial killer victims are white," Reid began, "so the fact that he's choosing to target these specific women is significant. The dump site indicates premeditation. What's the connection between these three women?"

"Nothing yet." Jennifer frowned, wishing they had more to go on before her team traveled to Ohio. Of course, she had absolute faith that they would get the job done. They were the best in the business.

"Well, we need to figure out where he's killing these women. If the cycle holds, we haven't much time." Agent Hotchner stated the obvious, glancing down at his watch.

"Wheels up in thirty minutes."

Dave turned to the newest member of the team.

"You ready, kiddo?"

She let out a deep breath, pushing herself up out of her chair.

"I was born ready, Dave."

"That's my girl." he smiled.

Jennifer observed their interaction, becoming more and more curious about the woman behind the mask with every passing second. Perhaps she was too quick to judge the hardworking Agent. After all, anyone who was alright in Agent Rossi's book had to be someone worth their salt.

"JJ, you coming?" Morgan called after her, holding open the glass door to the now-empty conference room.

"Yeah, just give me a second." She waved him off, waiting until after he turned and walked away to reach up and gently twist the charm hanging from the necklace around her neck between her fingers. This was her most prized possession- it was a gift from her sister on the day before she killed herself.

This job was beyond tough. It nearly broke Jennifer so many times over the years, left her with nightmares based in the harsh reality she had witnessed with so many families. The most terrifying nightmares the thirty-three year old had, however, were the ones involving her sister. When she was younger, they happened at least three times a week. Now they seemed to come whenever something in the case reminded her of Rebecca. She would wake up in a cold sweat, panting heavily, clutching her necklace like a life line. For a long time, she considered this a weakness. Now, she saw it as a strength. It reminded her that no matter how many victims or how many killers they came across, theirs was a battle worth fighting.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jennifer and Agent Hotchner were the last to board the BAU jet. Kristina sat back in her seat, watching the rest of the team- her team- interact, in order to watch the dynamic between the members. Dr. Reid sat across from SSA Prentiss, the latter of which teased the young doctor in near-perfect French: "_pour quelqu'un qui sait tant de choses, vous vous connaissez peu de choses sur les femmes..."_

Kristina chuckled.

Reid adjusted his glasses, his face scrunched up into a frown.

"You know I don't speak French that well, Emily."

The older agent grinned, clearly enjoying the one area in which her intellect surpassed that of the certifiable genius.

"You have so much to learn, Reid."

Kristina moved from her place in the back of the plane and sat across from them, leaning back against the tan leather headrest.

_"tout ce qu'il faut, c'est un bon maître._"

"Okay, this isn't fair!" Reid protested. "What are you guys saying?"

Emily's head rolled back in laughter as SSA Rossi returned from the back half of the plane with a water bottle.

"I didn't know you spoke French." He slid in the seat next to Kristina, who shrugged.

"I've never had to use it before."

"Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He smiled, patting her knee.

She craned her neck and saw Agent Morgan in the back of the plane, grinning ear-to-ear with his cell phone pressed against his cheek.

"Thank you, Baby Girl...Yeah, get back to me if you find anything. You're a Goddess." He hung up, still smiling. SSA Rossi noticed the confusion flicker in Kristina's eyes and lowered his voice so that only she could hear.

"Penelope Garcia, Technical Analyst. She knows all and sees all. You'll get to meet her when we get back."

"Looking forward to it," she chuckled.

Doctor Reid was still cross, his arms folded and his eyes purposely avoiding Emily's as Jennifer slid into the seat next to him.

"Spence?"

When he didn't respond, she turned to Emily for an explanation. The older Agent innocently shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what's wrong with him."

"There's nothing wrong with me!" He snapped, taking Jennifer by surprise.

"Calm down, Spence." she warned him as Agent Hotchner approached them carrying the case file with all the information that the Columbus Police Department had regarding the three murders. He remained unfazed by the playful dissent of his team.

"We've got a five hour flight ahead of us. When we arrive in Columbus, we need to start working the profile immediately. If the pattern holds, the unsub could be attacking someone today."

The team arrived in Columbus promptly at 4pm and immediately split into groups: Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi went to the dump site to see what they could glean of the unsub's methodology from the location, Hotchner and Reid were to visit the victims' families to gather more information about their daily routine, and Jareau and Kent stayed at the Columbus Police Department to get insight from the force and develop a more thorough profile.

What they knew thus far was rather limited: he was most likely a white male between the ages of 25 and 40. Like his victims, he most likely lived in Columbus and has for most of his life. His crimes were planned out, his targets specifically chosen, and his signature slashing of the wrists and ankles was very, very specific. He experienced a recent stressor, like a death of a loved one or loss of a job, which unearthed some unpleasant memories from his past. This was the missing piece of the puzzle- once they realized the connection between the victims, they could figure out why he chose them.

After Kristina finished telling the police this information with Agent Jareau, they had a brief moment alone in the conference room which had been set up as a temporary command central for the BAU.

"So, JJ..." she began, wondering how long she would have to walk on eggshells with the overprotective Agent. Her blue eyes seemed to eat right through any of Kristina's attempts to smooth over their interaction from earlier. Why the seasoned pro felt the need to impress her, she had no idea...

"Agent Kent?" Jennifer broke the awkward silence between them.

Kristina cleared her throat.

"Should you call Agent Hotchner or should I?"

* * *

><p>When they pulled up to the home of Wilma and Russell Gray, Agent Hotchner spoke for the first time since they stepped off the plane.<p>

"I'll talk to the parents directly; I want you to look in Alicia's bedroom. See if there's any indication of why she was targeted."

Reid nodded as he unbuckled his seatbelt. They had to be especially careful with victims' families. They had a murder to solve, but they did not want to overly pressure the families at such an emotional time.

The young doctor walked behind his superior as they approached the house, and immediately excused himself as Mrs. Gray offered them tea.

He quickly found Alicia's room and pulled a pair of crime scene gloves from his back pocket. He scanned the room as he slipped them on, initially seeing nothing out of sorts. Alicia's room looked like any typical college student's bedroom: white walls were covered by music and movie posters, picture frames, a floor-length mirror. Her queen-sized bed centered the wall to the right, and opposite the bed was an antique vanity, littered with makeup and perfumes and other girl stuff that he never quite understood. He carefully opened the drawer of the vanity only to find more makeup pencils and glosses and nothing that helped their profile whatsoever.

He had all but given up hope when he decided to inspect the photos in the frames on her wall- maybe one of the other victims would be in one of the pictures and they would find their missing link.

No such luck.

Hotch was having the same fortune with Alicia's parents. Alicia was a good student, had plenty of friends, rarely fought with anyone, didn't drink or stay out late. She even volunteered for charities from time to time. They couldn't imagine why someone would do this to their daughter. He wasn't cruel enough to tell them that their rose-colored glasses weren't helping them catch her killer.

Aaron stood from the Grays' floral print couch as Reid emerged from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. They still had two other houses to visit today.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gray...if you think of anything else..." His eyes flickered over to Reid, who was removing his crime scene gloves.

"Please, do not hesitate to call."

Doctor Reid and Agent Hotchner left the Gray home, if only slightly discouraged by the lack of information gathered. Hotchner pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed number two on his speed dial: SSA Emily Prentiss.

Emily was standing at the top of a muddy ditch off route 104 when her phone rang. She didn't even need to check the caller ID to know who it was.

"Hey, Hotch..." she muttered, as Agent Morgan climbed out of the ditch and wiped his dirty hands together in disgust.

"The rain washed any evidence we would have found. There's nothing to go on."

_ "We just left the Gray house,"_ Hotch sighed on the other end of the line.

_ "They sounded like they had a close relationship with their daughter but denied any problems she might have been having."_

"Figures...she was just a kid, Hotch." Emily rationalized.

_"That doesn't help us with the profile much."_ He shot back.

He was right- if the victims were simply chosen at random, they would have a much harder time catching the unsub. His methodology didn't suggest it, but there was always the exceptions to the rule...

"Tell Hotch that we'll save him a trip and visit with the Carlsbad family." SSA Rossi prodded Emily from behind, having taken a lap around the dump site and come up empty. Emily nodded.

"Hotch, there's nothing here. The rain washed away all evidence that the bodies were even here. We're going to the Carlsbads' to talk to Christy's husband."

The Carlsbad residence was a twenty-minute drive from the dump site on route 104. It was white with green shutters, nearly identical to a dozen other houses in the neighborhood.

When Mr. Carlsbad answered the door, Agent Morgan could tell that he had been crying. With puffy red eyes he led the three FBI profilers to the living room, but Derek opted to stand. He liked to put himself in the unsub's shoes, to try to get inside their heads in order to better understand how, and why, they do what they do.

The first thing he noticed- the house was well-kept. Spotless, really. It had to have been cleaned recently.

"Mr. Carlsbad, do you have a housecleaner?" Emily asked the mourning husband. He shook his head.

"No, no...Christy did everything. She cooked, she cleaned...she was an angel."

Emily shot a glance over at Derek, wondering if Mr. Carlsbad really determined his wife's worth by her housekeeping skills.

"Did Christy have a part-time job?"

"No. she volunteered sometimes, but I have a good job. We didn't need money."

This caught Dave's attention.

"What charities did she volunteer for?" He asked calmly.

The question made Mr. Carlsbad pause.

"I don't know, there were a few of them...what does that have to do with anything?"

Emily tried her best to console him.

"We don't know, sir, but the more we know about your wife's life the more of a chance we have of catching the guy who did this."

Morgan was already dialing Quantico.

_"You've reached Penelope Garcia's Help Line, caller, what's your trouble?"_

The sound of her voice made Derek smile.

"Hey, BabyGirl, i need you to do a search for any charities the victims were involved in. See if there's any overlap."

"Anything for you, My Love." she sang. "I'll call you back in a few."

* * *

><p>While Kristina helped set up the tip line and answered pressing questions from a pair of particularly pesky policemen, Jennifer talked to the rest of the team; first Hotch, then Emily, then finally, her best friend.<p>

_"Hello Gorgeous!" _

Jennifer peeked out the glass window of the conference room and couldn't help but laugh at the new girl trying to calm down an irritated older policeman, to no avail.

_"Hello? Jayje?"_ Garcia greeted her again, and the daydreaming Agent snapped back to reality.

"Hey, Pen, sorry." she apologized, getting back on track.

"What's up?"

"_What's up?"_ Garcia laughed. _"Where are you today, JJ?"_

She sighed.

"I'm right here, Garcia."

_ "Okay, well, I've got some good news. I found the link between victims. It's a charity called Columbus Cares- all three victims were involved with the charity. Hotch and Reid are heading to their offices right now. On a hunch, I did a search for criminal records within the ranks..."_

Garcia's 'hunches' never ceased to amaze Jennifer. The technical analyst was a wizard with computers, there was nothing she couldn't find online.

_ "I have a home address for the guy who started the charity- Richard Silverman. Arrested for aggravated assault and battery in 04. He lives a few miles from the precinct. I've told the guys, and they're on their way there right now but you guys will probably beat them there."_

Jennifer nodded.

"Thanks, Garcia."

She hung up and turned the GPS function on her PDA, then slipped out of the conference room to rescue the new girl from the officers still pestering her.

"Agent Kent," she tapped her shoulder, amused by the relief that washed over the brunette's face. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to tear you away. I need you with me. We've got a lead."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As their FBI standard issue black SUV turned the corner and Richard Silverman's house came into view, Agent Jareau turned to the tall brunette in her passenger seat.

"If he's here, he's probably not coming in easy...We'll split up- do you want the front or the back?"

Kristina shook her head.

"No way, not without backup."

Her disagreement made JJ pause.

"Really, you're going to fight me on this?"

"No disrespect, Jennifer, but I'd rather neither of us get shot on my first day." she shot back, taking her gun from its holster. Jennifer parked the car in front of the house next door, and quickly realized that Agent Kent was not backing down as they strapped into their kevlar vests.

"Fine." she groaned, shutting off the ignition and swinging her door open.

Kristina was already in front of her. She looked back at the equally stubborn agent as they neared the house and chuckled with a smug smile on her face.

"I'll get the door."

Kent carefully approached the front door of Silverman's two-story house, and paused briefly, looking into the nearest window before calling out to him.

"Richard Silverman, FBI!" She waited patiently, no response.

"Sir, we just need to ask you a couple of questions!" she tried again, to no avail. She checked the door- it was locked.

With one swift movement, she kicked the door in, wasting no time to enter the house, gun raised, ready to react the minute she saw movement. Together, the two agents swept the first floor in seconds, with no sign of Silverman.

Kristina let Jennifer take the lead up the stairs, but stopped her when she heard a soft thud coming from outside the house.

One peek out the front window confirmed her theory- Silverman had escaped from a second story window. They had a runner.

"God damn it..." Kristina muttered under her breath as she bolted back out the front door, chasing Silverman down the street.

"Stop! FBI!" she yelled in vain, knowing that he wasn't going to give up until he had a face full of pavement. Luckily, Kristina also knew that she could outrun him.

When she reached him after almost 50 yards, she pulled on his right shoulder, so that he lost his balance for a moment- just enough for her to bring him to the ground.

Silverman cursed as the brunette pinned him to the asphalt. In the distance, she could hear sirens wailing, announcing their arrival on-scene. Kristina couldn't help but chuckle as three cop cars and two black SUVs turned the corner.

The suspect struggled underneath her but she had the upper hand as she grabbed each arm and pulled them behind his back.

"Why did you have to run?" she grumbled as the cavalry screeched to a halt in front of them. Jennifer had finally caught up to them as well.

Gasping for air, the petite blonde bent over to check the obviously battered up agent- she had burned a hole through her slacks at the knee when she dove after Silverman, and her hands and forearms were bloody from breaking her fall on the asphalt.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

The brunette looked up at her, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, yeah, i'm fantastic."

"You look like it." JJ shot back, quickly cuffing Silverman and helping Kristina to her feet. Kristina flinched when the other agent grabbed her hands, but quickly recovered when she saw the worried look on her face.

"I'm fine, really." she assured her.

Two uniforms took Silverman away, and Hotch followed behind them.

"Agent Kent," he approached her, "well done."

"Thank you, sir."

He looked over her injuries, then turned to JJ.

"We need to have her looked over at the hospital, JJ."

The obedient Agent nodded.

"Sure thing, Hotch."

Kristina frowned.

"Honestly, Sir, I'm fine. We need to move on Silverman-"

"The rest of the team is going back to the precinct, but I need you to get checked out by a doctor... just in case."

Knowing that it was probably best not to protest the team leader's wishes, she let it go. Hotchner left with the brigade and Jennifer walked with the disgruntled Agent back to their car. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Jennifer turned to the grumpy brunette.

"Morgan's going to be bummed he didn't get to break down any doors today."

"I can't believe I'm missing interrogation." she mumbled under her breath.

* * *

><p>Hotchner, Morgan, and Rossi stood outside the one-sided glass window of the interrogation room at the precinct, observing their suspect in the murders of Alicia Gray, Patty Priestly, and Christy Carlsbad as he sat uncomfortably at the metal table in the center of the 10x10 square.<p>

"He looks guilty." Morgan offered, arms folded. Rossi nodded.

"Guilty of something...i'm still not convinced he's our guy."

Morgan frowned.

"Rossi, he beats women. He knew all of the victims. He ran from us."

"Exactly," Rossi turned to him, "he beats women, he doesn't stab them."

"Maybe he escalated."

"It's a completely different MO, Derek."

"It's up close, it's personal, it's brutal." Morgan shot back.

"We need more information." Hotch interrupted them, readying himself to enter the room with Morgan following close behind.

"Richard Silverman, my name is Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Morgan, we're from the FBI."

"I want a lawyer." he immediately tried to get the upper hand. They had seen this too many times before to be surprised.

"We just want to ask you a couple of questions."

"I want a lawyer first!"

He was agitated. Morgan knew exactly how to give him pause.

He slapped three glossy photos on the table and spread them out in front of Silverman. The blood instantly drained from his face.

"Wh- what is this? Why are you showing me this?"

Morgan leaned across the table.

"C'mon, man, only guilty people run from cops."

"Only guilty people ask for lawyers." Hotch added.

Silverman shook his head.

"I didn't do this! I didn't kill them!"

Now it was Hotch's turn to go in for the kill.

"Mr. Silverman, let me tell you what I do for a living. I am an FBI profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. What this means is, I can tell more about you in five minutes than most people can in 35 years. I can tell when you're lying. I can tell when you're hiding something. Now, either you start talking or I have my people tear through every aspect of your life, and trust me when I tell you that our technical analyst will find every dirty little secret-every dollar you've ever spent, every place you've ever been, and and every person you've ever met."

Silverman finally broke.

"Okay, okay..." He covered his face with his hands. "I'll talk."

He inhaled sharply before continuing.

"Yes, I knew them, okay...we were close. I heard about the murders on the news. When I heard those agents at the door...i got spooked. I knew it would look bad."

"Yeah it does." Morgan retorted, but backed off when Hotch cast a warning glance over at him. Silverman frowned.

"Look, I didn't kill anyone."

Hotch attempted to save the rapport of the interview.

"You said you were close to the victims...how close, exactly?"

Silverman paused, unable to look the agents in the eye as he responded.

"We were close, okay? I would never kill them."

"You just used them." Morgan shot back, folding his arms.

"No!"

"Were you sleeping with them?"

"No!"

Hotch cocked his head to the side, wondering when people were going to learn to stop lying while he was on the other side of the table. He could see the truth written all over Silverman's face, in addition to the change in the inflection of his voice. The seasoned pro leaned forward in his chair.

"How many people knew?"

Silverman was taken aback, and stumbled over his words as the stern-looking agent stared him down.

"N-nobody knew...it wasn't anything s-serious..."

Morgan shook his head.

"Look, man, somebody knew. All three victims are connected to you."

"Yeah, but-"

"You have an awful lot to lose, if word gets out that you're sleeping with volunteers- one of whom is married..."

"What do i have to do to convince you guys that I'm innocent?" he finally snapped, getting to his feet. Morgan unfolded his arms.

"Help us find who killed them."

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss sat in a black SUV as she pulled out of the parking lot at the Columbus PD, cell phone pressed against her right ear as she dialed Jennifer Jareau's number for the second time. Garcia had done some digging on Silverman and found addresses for his two brothers: Hotch and Rossi left to see his older brother Jeremy, and Morgan and Reid were paying a visit younger brother Samuel. Emily was to meet the last two agents at the Columbus Cares headquarters to interview more women who were possible conquests of the ever-sleazy Richard Silverman.<p>

_"Hey, Prentiss...we just got out of the hospital."_

Emily nodded.

"How is she?"

_"She's fine, just a couple scratches."_

"That's great." she smiled, turning the corner as her GPS instructed her to.

"Hey, why don't you guys meet me at the Columbus Cares offices, we need to see if any of these other women knew about the affairs."

Jennifer agreed and Emily hung up, quickly making her way across town.

Ten minutes later, Prentiss arrived at Columbus Cares, a three-story white stucco building. She parked next to JJ's SUV and found them in the lobby.

"Hey, Jayje..." She smiled, then turned to Agent Kent, who had both wrists taped and both arms folded.

"Hey, Kent...Heard you took a tumble earlier."

The tall brunette sighed.

"Yeah, I had to tackle Silverman, okay? It's not that big of a deal."

Emily chuckled.

"Not at all."

"Let's go talk to some of these people, shall we?" JJ interjected. "There's only a few people left here, the others will have to wait until tomorrow."

The three agents parted ways, trying their best to discreetly pull a few women away from their work, but there was no element of surprise here. The government employees stood out like a sore thumb. Kristina's first read of the place was that the organization had a dynamic like a secret cult; she knew they probably wouldn't say anything, even if they could.

As she expected, when Jennifer and Emily met up with her in an hour she learned that not one person would admit to knowing anything about any affairs. They were so afraid it was nearly impossible analyze their reactions to see if one of them was lying. It was downright infuriating. After six hours, all they had was a dirtbag trying to make good and three bodies...not knowing if or when the next will drop.

"Hotch, we just left the charity...yeah, they're all scared straight in there, there's something going on. Have Garcia check the financials again tomorrow morning." Prentiss hung up as they neared the SUVs.

"We're not going to get anything more today."

she sounded defeated, something Kristina knew painstakingly too well.

"Well, let's get back to the hotel and get some rest."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Kristina flopped down on the small hotel bed as soon as she entered her room, closing her tired hazel eyes briefly before taking her cell phone out of her pocket and hitting redial. She needed to hear a familiar voice, so she had called the first person to come to mind- her best friend, her confidant, her partner...or, ex-partner.

_"Kricket, what's going on? It's late."_ Frank Washer remarked, glancing over at the clock on his nightstand to confirm his statement. He rested his head on his pillow.

_"Is everything alright? How was your first day?"_

Kristina exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

"We're in Columbus."

_"Wow, that was fast."_ He stated the obvious, and the brunette couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yep, things haven't changed much in the three weeks since you retired." She jabbed, playfully teasing the older ex-agent.

_"So, how was your first day?_

Kristina smiled. Even though he had retired, she knew he would try to live vicariously through her. Once an FBI Agent, always an FBI Agent.

"Hectic." She admitted.

_"Just how you like it."_

"I scraped the shit out of my hands, though." she looked down at her bandages, too tired to hunt down the gauze and tape to re-dress her wounds.

_"Are you alright?"_ He sounded concerned, and Kristina knew there was no reason to cause him to worry even more than he normally did.

"I'll just rub some dirt in it," she joked, staring up at the spackled ceiling of the hotel room.

_"That's my girl." _Frank smiled.

Silence fell between them, and Kristina felt that oh-so-familiar self-doubt creep up behind her. She would not soon forget what had brought her to this team, the mistake that led her to this very moment- the mistake that lost Frank his job.

"Frank, I don't know if I can do this."

A furrow formed in Frank's brow.

_"Of course you can."_

"This is my last shot, Frank. If I mess this up, I'm going to lose my job." Kristina reminded him.

"I'm walking a fucking tightrope." she huffed.

Frank paused, knowing that if Kristina Kent decided to work herself into a panic attack, nothing short of an act of God was going to talk her out of it.

Still, he had to try.

_"Kristina, none of what happened in Nashville was your fault."_

"Frank..." She rolled her eyes, having heard this speech from him at least ten times in the past three weeks.

_"I'm serious, Kristina. You can't keep beating yourself up over it. You're a damn good Agent, one of the best I've ever worked with. You're going to have to let it go."_

"I don't think I'm ever going to do that, Frank." she replied matter-of-factly.

Frank sighed. He could almost feel her impenetrable emotional walls go up all the way from DC.

_"One of these days, I'm going to be right." _

"I doubt it." she shot back playfully.

Taking her cue, Frank attempted to change the subject.

_"So, have you talked to your mom lately?"_

Kristina sighed.

"I was going to call her tonight but we were so busy..."

_"She's going to want to hear from you."_ he chided.

"I was going to call." she reiterated.

_"she called me today, because you haven't been returning her messages."_

"Frank, i don't want to talk about it." she shot back nastier than necessary.

He frowned again.

_"Okay, well you called me for a reason."_

She groaned.

"I just needed my partner today, that's all. I miss you."

_"Well,"_ Frank sighed, _"when you get back in town, we'll go out to lunch. We can go apartment hunting. Maybe you could meet new people."_

Kristina rolled her eyes. "Meet new people" was code for going on dates with stuffy, holier-than-thou men in suits for free food and droning small talk.

"Frank, I don't want to meet new people."

He chuckled.

_"I know, but it would be good for you."_

"I'm going to bed now, Frank."

_"Was it something I said?"_ he queried, still laughing.

"Goodnight, Frank." she hung up, a smile creeping on her face despite herself.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Pen...is Henry still awake?"<p>

Jennifer clutched her sister's necklace in her left hand, looking over herself in the mirror of the bathroom in her hotel room as she waited for her best friend to respond. Garcia had picked up JJ's son from school and spoiled her godson with an afternoon of mayhem at the mall. She was truly grateful for Penelope- it eased her mind to know that her baby was taken care of when Will was out of town. And he had been out of town a lot more, recently.

_"Jayje, it's 11:30 on a school night."_ Garcia gently reminded her, and JJ squinted her eyes shut.

"Right, right. Don't wake him, he's probably exhausted."

_"So..."_

Garcia changed the subject to the question that had been on her mind all day.

_ "How's the new girl? Do you like her?"_

Jennifer couldn't help but chuckle, rubbing the dark circles under her eyes and changing into a t-shirt and cotton shorts as she replied.

"I don't know, she's...she's good at her job."

_"Oh, come on," _Garcia scolded her,_ "you spent all day with her. What's she like?"_

JJ took a deep breath.

"She's...headstrong. She's a fast runner." she added with a chuckle.

_"Jayje."_ Garcia prodded her to continue. The usually chatty blonde was holding out on her and she didn't like it one bit.

"Everyone seems to like her." Jennifer quickly put her hair in a ponytail and splashed her face with water, then wiped off her makeup.

_"And what about you, Miss Jennifer?"_ Garcia grinned at Jennifer's attempts to mask whatever was clearly bothering her.

Jennifer realized that her persistent best friend was not going to drop the subject.

"It's nothing really, just," she caved, "when we went to see Silverman, she was adamant that we weren't going to split up. That's not how we are trained to do things. Protocol is, you split up to cover all the exits so they can't escape."

Pen paused.

_"Didn't he jump out a second story window?"_

"That's beside the point, Pen." JJ groaned.

_"What is the point, then?" _

"The point is, she was acting like she was trying to protect me from something, which is insane. I outrank her. I scored the highest in the unit on our marksmanship exam." she spat. "and then she barely said five words to me when i tried to make nice with her on the way to the hospital."

_"So you're mad because-"_

"Because she needs to make up her damn mind! She can't just be Little Miss Personality one minute, then completely shut down the next!" Jennifer was on full-out rampage mode. Garcia was at least glad that it wasn't Will that was the source of her irritation tonight. She'd heard just about enough of his passive aggressive guilt trips.

"and she calls me Jennifer. It's weird." Jennifer added indignantly. Garcia stifled a laugh.

"_You're mad because she calls you by your first name?"_

It was now that JJ realized just how ridiculous she sounded.

"No, it's the way she says it." she shut the light off and sat on the edge of her bed, a wave of exhaustion finally hitting her

"Look, I need to go to bed, Pen. Talk to you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>"Goodnight guys!" Spencer waved at Morgan and Rossi, who quickly ducked into their respective hotel rooms, leaving him alone in the hallway. He dug his hotel key out of his pocket and stumbled into his room, feeling the oncoming headache arriving with a particular gusto. He popped three aspirin into his mouth and drank from the water bottle in his go-bag. It wasn't nearly strong enough medicine to ward off the pounding headaches, but aspirin was the strongest drug he would allow himself to carry- with his history of addiction, he didn't want to have the temptation to relapse.<p>

He opened the flap of his carrier bag and pulled out a manila FBI folder. Over the years, Dr. Reid had found that the best way to get past the headaches was to bury his nose in a book, or in this case, his job. Tonight, however, he had pulled an entirely different file for his leisure reading.

A pair of intense hazel eyes stared back at him as he opened the folder.

He had read a little about their newest addition to the team, but hadn't the chance to learn of her academic pursuits prior to the FBI. She was obviously intelligent, but Spencer was surprised to learn that she had two degrees: bachelors in criminology and a PhD in abnormal psychology. No wonder she had originally wanted to join the BAU; her degrees seemed tailor-made for the extreme cases they witnessed on a regular basis.

He made a mental note to have Garcia hunt down her thesis tomorrow for what was sure to be an interesting read. Kristina Kent was certainly an intriguing character.

The egregiously intelligent doctor made quick work of her file, slightly irritated that he had forgotten to request the extended file with a more detailed work history. He closed his eyes and tried to recall what she and Emily had said earlier on the plane...

_ "__pour quelqu'un qui sait tant de choses, vous vous connaissez peu de choses sur les femmes..."_

"tout ce qu'il faut, c'est un bon maître." he muttered in butchered French, then whipped his phone to google the translation.

When he realized what Prentiss had said, and what Kristina had said in response, a smile crept on his face. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad, having someone else on the team. Besides, he would be lying if he said she wasn't incredibly attractive. Completely out of his league, of course...Spencer was awkward and shy and was obsessed with things like Star Trek and Doctor Who. Kristina spoke French and grew up ten minutes from the beach. She had a silent air of confidence that told him she probably went for guys more of Derek's speed, someone that could challenge her.

Spencer yawned and returned to the first page of the file, eyes focused on the FBI headshot paper-clipped to the page. Lost in thought, he drifted off to sleep and was startled awake by his cell phone after what felt like seconds.

After quick glance at the clock, he realized he had passed out for six hours.

"Reid, it's Hotch. Be ready in the lobby in a half hour."

He sat up in bed as they hung up and rubbed his tired eyes, deciding that another dose of aspirin was in order. If they had time, a coffee didn't sound like a bad idea either.

He dressed quickly and met Morgan in the elevator.

The obviously well-rested agent was grinning behind his shades as he hit the button for the lobby.

"Morning, Pretty Boy."

Reid managed a weak smile.

"Hey, Morgan..."

"You look exhausted." The older agent noted. "We'll stop for coffee."

"Thank you." Reid muttered under his breath, adjusting the strap of his carrier bag on his shoulder uncomfortably.

Just as the doors dinged open and the lobby came into view, Derek turned to his young friend.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No." Reid shot back almost immediately, causing Derek to chuckle. The younger agent walked briskly ahead of him, effectively ending the discussion.

"Okay, then..."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Okay, everybody, listen up." Hotch easily commanded the attention of the conference room at the precinct where the team was assembled.

"Unfortunately, there was another body found last night, a few miles away from the old dump site. They haven't identified the woman yet, but if the pattern holds, the victim will most likely be connected to Richard Silverman."

He paused, his voice turning from his normal, formal tone to a much lower, graver one.

"And if not...then we've got a possible spree on our hands."

The last thing they needed was a spree killer adding to the already demoralizing body count.

"Morgan, Reid, I want you to go to the ME and determine whether or not this is our guy. Emily, I want you and Kristina to take a crack at the younger brother again. He seemed to be closer to Richard, and he might be able to remember more today. JJ, you and Rossi should go back to the headquarters and get security tapes from the past couple of days, and set up interviews for all of the employees. I'm going to talk to Chief Slater about beefing up patrols near the area." He nodded, dismissing them.

The agents filed out of the conference room until only Emily Prentiss and the new girl remained. Now it was the older woman's chance to corner Agent Kent and get a read on her. She had so many questions.

"You want to drive, or should i?"

Kristina unfolded her arms, wincing ever so slightly in pain but trying to mask the fact. Unfortunately for her, it was Emily's job to notice things.

"I'll drive."

The taller brunette didn't disagree as she pulled her keys out of her pocket. Emily led her out to the SUV and kept an eye on her as she slipped into the passenger seat.

Five minutes passed before either agent spoke.

"So, Kristina...what do you think about the BAU so far?"

Kristina looked over at the older agent, who was trying her hardest to make her feel welcome, and offered her a weak smile.

"It's exactly how I imagined it would be."

"Oh, that's right," Emily feigned surprise, "Rossi mentioned that you applied to the BAU back in the day."

Kristina nodded.

"They didn't take too kindly to the idea of a 21-year-old girl in the field back then, though," she added with a chuckle.

"But it sounds like you did well for yourself in spite of that." Emily noted as she pulled out into traffic per the GPS's instructions.

"Thanks to my partner." Kristina muttered.

"or, ex-partner." she corrected herself.

Emily smiled.

"Frank Washer, right?"

"The very same."

"Yeah, he's a legend." Emily chuckled. "It's unfortunate that he had to retire."

Kristina nodded again.

"Yeah, it is."

"Just give it time," Emily tried to comfort her, knowing how hard it is to fit in with a new group of people in a new city. Growing up, the Ambassador's job gave her plenty of practice with that particular skill set. Perhaps that was why she felt like she had to reach out to the new agent, who was thrust into unfamiliar territory and seemed to be handling it decently enough...that is, until she had her alone and could see a glimpse behind the mask.

"Look, you're obviously very good at your job," Emily observed, "but we're a team here. We're a family. It'll take a little while to get settled in. Don't sweat it, you're doing fine."

Kristina was avoiding her gaze, choosing to peer out the window as they crossed town. Emily expected nothing less from the hard-headed thirty-three year old.

They arrived at Samuel Silverman's apartment in twenty minutes.

Samuel was like a younger, thinner, more tragic version of his older brothers. He had dark circles under his eyes and was tugging at the sleeves of his gray long-sleeve shirt nervously as he let them inside the dark, dank room.

"Samuel, thanks for seeing us again today." Emily kept his attention as Kristina observed their surroundings. One thing was for certain- Samuel Silverman was living in disarray. Piled up empty pizza boxes lay on the floor in front of his couch, the light bulb dimmed with every step they took, and dirty clothes littered every square inch of the place. The apartment smelled of a mixture of mold, stale food, and bleach. Where Richard was organized and put together in his suburban home, little Sammy was a complete train wreck.

"Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid came by your work yesterday, but we felt like you might be able to help us more today, when you're less busy." The older agent cocked her head to the side, noting the obvious discomfort in Samuel's demeanor.

"Is now a good time?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." he sniffed, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

Prentiss cast a knowing glance over at Kristina. They were both thinking it; Samuel Silverman was a junkie. All the signs were there.

This was going to be another long day.

* * *

><p>"So, Reid..." Morgan turned to his friend in the passenger seat, who was clutching his second cup of coffee with both hands.<p>

"What do you know about this new girl?"

Reid took a sip of his coffee and mentally calculated the amount of time left until he could take another dose of aspirin.

"I know she has a great list of recommendations," Reid began, wondering how much he was at liberty to share with the older male.

"She joined the FBI right after college, solved an impressive case in California with her Senior Agent Frank Washer. A young woman named Samantha Fredrickson was kidnapped. They found her in the basement of a warehouse in San Francisco after local authorities had been searching for six months."

Derek paused.

"And?"

"She has a bachelors in criminology and a PhD in abnormal psychology which she completed while she was with the bureau."

He chuckled.

"So she's a brainiac, like you."

"She has an IQ of 140, so not quite." Reid replied, taking another sip of coffee.

"That's still very impressive."

Reid nodded.

"It is."

"So what else can you tell me?" Morgan's brow furrowed, and Spencer let out a deep breath.

"I don't know, Morgan, all I read was her standard FBI file. She can speak French, she's from San Pablo, California, and she's 33 years old. She's 5 feet, 10 inches tall. She was valedictorian in high school. She worked with Frank Washer for twelve years. He retired three weeks ago and she transfered to the BAU. Why do you ask?"

"Because I get the feeling she's hiding something." He shot back.

Reid frowned.

"Have you even actually spoken to her?"

"I don't have to talk to her to know she's hiding something, Reid, it's my job."

"I'm just saying, she's been with the FBI for as long as you have." Reid pointed out, taking another drink of his coffee.

Morgan quickly turned the corner in their SUV, almost causing the younger man to spill his drink in the process.

"She's new to us, Reid. I still don't know that I trust her. She's gotta earn it."

Derek's cell phone rang, and he flipped it up to his ear.

"Yeah, Baby Girl?"

_"Whoa, someone's cranky."_ Penelope teased on the other end of the line.

"Don't worry about it." He shot back. "You got something for me?"

_ "Yes, as a matter of fact I do, Hot Stuff. The ME has identified the victim from this morning. Her name was Kelsey Blakely: 23, she was a teacher's assistant and has lived in Columbus her entire life. I searched for Columbus Cares in her records and I couldn't find anything, but i'm still looking. If it's there, i'll find it."_

"Teacher's assistant...Garcia, cross-reference Alicia Gray with Kelsey Blakely, see if they have anything in common."

He paused, waiting for the technical analyst to work her magic.

_"That's a big fat 'no', i'm afraid." _

Derek sighed.

"Okay, thanks Baby Girl. Call me again if you find anything."

* * *

><p>"Samuel, can you look at these photos for me, and tell me if any of these women look familiar?"<p>

Emily gently set the glossy photos in front of him as her phone rang. She excused herself to the hall and smiled as she saw Penelope's name on the caller ID.

"Hey, Garcia, what do you have for me?"

_ "Kelsey Blakely is the fourth victim. She was a teacher's assistant at Samuel Silverman's college. I'm cutting through all sorts of academic red tape to see if there are any links between Blakely and the other victims, but you might ask him and save us a step."_

Emily grinned.

"You're the greatest, Garcia."

_"I know. I gotta go call Hotch- Ciao."_

Kristina was watching Samuel peer at the photos intently when Emily re-entered the room.

"I guess they look kinda familiar..." He muttered, unsure of himself, still nervously tugging at his sleeves.

"What about Kelsey Blakely, does that name ring a bell?" Emily approached them, tucking her cell phone into her jacket pocket.

"N-no, I don't think so." He stuttered, his eyes a dead giveaway to the truth.

Kristina cleared her throat.

"Um, can I use your bathroom?"

He looked nervously between them, then stood up.

"Yeah, sure, it's...it's right through here."

As he tugged at his sleeve again, it suddenly clicked in Emily's brain. One look at Kristina and she could tell the younger agent was thinking the same thing- they had found their prime suspect.

"Samuel, can i ask you a question?"

Emily approached with caution.

"Can you lift up your sleeves for me?"

She could see the fear in his eyes, and she knew.

Kristina poked her head out of the bathroom and mouthed one word across the room.

_ "Bleach."_

Samuel backed slowly away from Emily, and she held out both hands.

"Samuel." She prodded him, and when he didn't comply, she lowered her voice.

"What are you hiding?"

His hands were violently shaking as Kristina helped Emily corner him.

"Sam, I think we know what happened." she spoke softly, and Sam surprised both of them as he spat in response.

"You have no idea!"

"You killed Alicia." Kristina shot back, stone-faced as he sobbed in response to her accusation. "You killed her, and then you killed Patty Priestly, and Christy Carlsbad."

"No, no!" He tried to maintain his innocence, but when Kristina reached for his left arm and pulled up his sleeve, revealing several fresh cuts and a variety of scabbed slices on his forearm, they became wholly convinced.

Kristina quickly whipped his arm behind him and cuffed him with ease.

"Samuel Silverman, you are under arrest for the murder of Alicia Gray. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you..." Kristina rattled off his Miranda rights like she had hundreds of times in the past twelve years, while Emily whipped out her cell phone.

"Hotch, bring everyone back to the station- we've got him. It's Samuel."

_"Are you sure?"_ Hotch replied in disbelief. Emily shot a glance over at the sobbing young man Kristina was leading out of the apartment.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

It was almost 2pm when the team boarded the jet, DC-bound, several hours ahead of what the pilot had been expecting. None of them had expected to be home for dinner; when they woke up this morning, they had no real tangible leads. When SSA Prentiss and Special Agent Kent brought Samuel Silverman into custody, however, it became glaringly obvious that they had their guy. Within minutes of being in interrogation, he cracked under Rossi and Reid's tag-team, rapid-fire questioning. He confessed to all four murders.

An obvious self-harmer, Samuel's depression had escalated under the shadow of his older brother. When Alicia, the object of his affections, admitted that she had slept with Richard, he snapped. The slashed wrists and ankles were an attempt to release himself from the pain he felt. Unfortunately, there was no escaping it.

When Patty and Christy confronted him three days later, he saw no choice but to eliminate the witnesses. Samuel was no longer in control of the urge to harm others. It was lucky they caught him as quickly as they did. Kelsey Blakely was undoubtedly the beginning of would eventually be considered a killing spree.

Hotch leaned back in his seat, resting his head and closing his eyes but for just a moment. He never slept well when they were on a case. His mind just wouldn't shut off. Now, he tried to stay focused on the positive; because they had caught the guy so quickly, he would be home early enough to spend some quality time with his son, Jack.

It rubbed him the wrong way, though, how their newest member had handled her first case with the BAU. He was nothing if not a stickler for the rules- that was how he climbed the ladder at the FBI, to his position as the leader of this team. Kristina Kent had been completely reckless when she and JJ entered Silverman's house the day prior. She had been on the team less than seven hours before she had to be taken to the hospital as a direct result of breaking protocol. No matter whose orders had gotten Kent on his team, he needed to be sure that he could trust her in the field.

Dave collapsed into the seat next to Aaron, as if reading his mind.

"Stop worrying, Aaron. The case is over, we got the guy."

"That's not what i'm worried about," he muttered under his breath, his eyes flickering over to the tall brunette agent whose sat across from Prentiss and was distracting herself with her cell phone. His disapproval did not go unnoticed.

"Hotch," Rossi lowered his voice, "just give her a chance."

"I don't have a choice," He snapped, a furrow in his brow.

"Her reassignment came from far beyond my level of influence."

This made Rossi pause.

"Really?"

"Yes, and the last time this happened..." Hotch drifted off, not needing to remind anyone of how Strauss had brought in none other than Emily Prentiss to spy on the team and bring him down. Of course, the loyal Special Agent had threatened to resign rather than rat him out... but somehow Hotch doubted that Kristina Kent would be willing to do the same.

Rossi frowned.

"Hotch, I know Kristina, and she would never-"

"You knew her seven years ago, Dave. A lot can happen in that time."

The older agent sighed, knowing there was very little that could change Aaron's mind. Still, he knew he had to do something to ease Hotch's worries.

"Look, Hotch, if it makes you feel better, I'll talk to her tomorrow. I'll make sure she knows you're the boss, and she needs to be more careful in the future."

"She shouldn't have to be told to follow the rules," he pointed out to his far too forgiving co-worker.

Dave sighed.

"Look, you and I both know she's been through a lot. She's not the first agent to try to carry the world on her shoulders."

Aaron had to concede on this point. Part of what made a good agent was the innate desire to cure the world of all its problems. Experience told him that there would always be someone out there, making the world a darker, more sinister place...but that didn't stop them from trying.

* * *

><p>As the BAU stepped off the plane, Kristina scanned the small crowd of people for her ride; the team had carpooled to the airport and her car was still at Quantico. She quickly found him, a grin instantly spreading across her face.<p>

"Frank!" she exclaimed, running ahead of the team and into a hug from the big, brawny ex-agent whom she was privileged to call her best friend. He took a major chance on her thirteen years ago, and she spent those years learning from the best in the Bureau. They were the perfect team; he was strong and steady, and she was fast and fierce. He let her test her own limits, always behind her to catch her if she fell.

Beyond his accomplishments in the field, Frank had proven himself to be a loyal, trustworthy confidant. Kristina trusted him with her life, and if she was being honest, he was the only person she could truly open up to. He always seemed to say the right thing, despite his inherent social awkwardness.

"Kricket!" He sighed happily, calling her by her childhood nickname- when she started with the Bureau, she had invited him over for dinner at her parent's house and all it took was one slip of the tongue from her mother for Frank to adopt the nickname from then on.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up," she smiled, separating from their hug as the rest of the team approached them.

Frank waved her off.

"You don't need to thank me. How are your hands?" he gently grabbed both of her hands and looked over the freshly-bandaged wounds.

"Honestly, Frank," Kristina chuckled, "I'm fine."

She turned around to the rest of the team, and quickly introduced her ex-partner to them. Fifteen minutes later, they were in Frank's black SUV-old habits die hard-with AC/DC playing in the background as Frank quizzed her on the case like a parent would to a kid on their way home from school.

"So, how are you liking the team? Have you made any friends?" He chuckled to himself as the younger agent lightly bobbed her head to the rhythm of "Highway To Hell", almost missing his question altogether.

"It's fine...I haven't really had time to get to know anyone, since we were on a _case_," she emphasized the last word, reminding him that she was not here to make friends. She was here to do her job.

Frank, however, was relentless.

"If you plan on being here for a while, you're going to have to interact with these people," he pointed out with a smile creeping on his face. She chuckled again.

"Well, I don't think Jennifer wants anything to do with me."

Frank paused.

"Kristina, what did you do?"

The brunette sighed.

"I didn't _do_ anything...we're just too alike," she explained.

"So she's stubborn and pigheaded and difficult?" he teased.

"Pertinacious," Kristina shot back, trying not to smile.

"Million dollar word of the day..." Frank muttered under his breath, shaking his head at the unwavering agent in his passenger seat.

"So I found a few apartments for us to look at for you," He changed the subject as the song ended and a commercial began.

"Aww, Frank, is this your way of telling me I'm no longer welcome at your apartment?" Kristina teased playfully.

He shook his head.

"No, of course not. I was just thinking, you need a place, and I have all this time to find you the perfect place. I found a few good ones, one has a killer view of the Mall, in downtown DC. Super fancy. We can go apartment shopping this weekend, if you want."

As the brunette's stomach rumbled beneath her seatbelt, she chuckled.

"Can we stop somewhere and get a quick dinner? I haven't eaten at all today." she admitted. Frank gasped in mock horror.

"See, this is why you need me: because you'd never eat if I wasn't paying."

"That's not even true, you big brute," she retorted, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, "I was just busy catching bad guys."

Frank turned on Wisconsin Avenue after catching a Z Burger out of the corner of his eye.

"Story of our lives, Kricket."

He pulled up to the drive-thru, ordered her a cheeseburger and fries before she could even open her mouth, then turned back to his best friend, thankful to have her back, it seemed, for the first time in months. She had been beating herself up over things out of her control for as long as he could remember, but it had only gotten worse in the months before he blew out his knee. Everything seemed to pile on them at once; it was a miracle they survived what happened in Nashville.

Agent Kent had passed the mandatory post-traumatic therapy sessions with flying colors, of course, because she absolutely wouldn't let anyone see the broken side of herself. That was reserved for only those lucky enough to really know Kristina. Over the years, she had learned to fake it. He considered it his job to protect her from the crippling self-doubt, to be a ray of sunshine in her undoubtedly dark and dreary lifestyle.

As he handed the drive-thru attendant a $20 bill, he turned back to the tall brunette, who was caught between pouting over his insistence on paying for her food, and just happy to have her big brother back.

He cracked a grin.

"So, tell me about the rest of the team...How about that Emily Prentiss?"

* * *

><p>Spencer arrived home around 7:30, and quickly popped a Tupperware with Dave's leftover spaghetti into the microwave for dinner. The kind senior agent was a master in the kitchen, and from time to time would send the condemned bachelor decent, home-cooked meals to break up the monotony of take-out every night.<p>

As the spaghetti warmed up, he pulled up his computer and checked his inbox-Garcia had found Special Agent Kent's abnormal psychology thesis and sent him an email with the PDF file. He double clicked the link and was momentarily stunned by the title: "Psychological Processing of Emotional and Self-Referential Information in Schizophrenia".

The microwave beeped, telling the young genius that his dinner was ready. Suddenly, his hunger disappeared as Spencer Reid found himself preoccupied with something else entirely.

The possibility of genetically inheriting his mother's paranoid schizophrenia was something that often weighed heavily on his mind. As a student of psychology, the doctor knew that the odds were not in his favor. He'd avoided the subject, burying himself in his work, in helping other people where he couldn't help himself. It seemed useless to fret over something out of his control.

Still, he worried. He couldn't help it. The piercing headaches he experienced were very possibly linked to the disease, a daily reminder of his eventual fate. But now, with Kristina Kent, he saw a small glimmer of hope. As he quickly read the dissertation, he realized that the newest member of the team knew more about the cause and effects of schizophrenia than anyone else he knew-including himself. It was as if the universe had sent her to the BAU to help him.

He wanted to call her immediately, to invite her over to discuss the things he had learned from her dissertation. He wanted to thank her, for giving him a sense of hope that he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Even if he never plucked up the courage to talk to her, there was a strange comfort that came with learning this about the new agent.

Realizing that his dinner was going to get cold if he left it in the microwave for much longer, he retrieved it and picked at it with a fork as he contemplated how he was going to strike up a conversation with Agent Kent tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Kristina cursed the early-morning traffic as she sat behind the wheel of her silver Toyota Camry. She had attempted to leave Frank's apartment early enough to get to her new apartment across town to pick up her keys for later, and still arrive at work a few minutes before 9- now, thanks to an overly-chatty landlord she would be lucky to be on time if she were to park her car and run up the two flights of stairs to the BAU's floor...

Thanks to her lead foot and a few Fast-and-the-Furious-esque maneuvers, she pulled up to Quantico with a minute to spare.

Dave was walking up the sidewalk ahead of her, so the tall brunette quickened her pace to catch up with him.

"Dave!" she smiled, shoving her keys in the pocket of her jacket.

The older man offered a weak smile in return.

"Ah, Kristina, good...can i talk to you for a sec?"

She paused.

"I'm already going to be late-"

"This will only take a second," he assured her.

The brunette sighed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Okay, what's up?"

"Look, I know you're still adjusting to the BAU," he began, treading lightly around the subject, "but Hotch is a little worried about you."

Kristina's brow furrowed. She folded her arms.

"Worried? Why is he worried?"

Rossi lowered his voice, trying to prevent their conversation from being overheard by the other employees walking past them.

"Well, for starters, you didn't exactly follow protocol in Columbus."

"I had my reasons," she reasoned.

"I made a calculated decision in the field. It's not like I deliberately ignored orders or put someone in danger. If anything, I was too careful."

"That may be, but to Hotch, it just makes you look like a loose cannon. Just tone it down, that's all. There's a very fine line," he retorted.

Kristina nodded.

"I can do that."

It was a little suspect that the leader of the team was entrusting the senior agent to discipline the new kid...then again, nothing about this team was ordinary. They were like a well-oiled machine, and she had yet to discover where she fit in their dynamic. The last thing she wanted was to lose their trust before she even began to figure it all out.

Rossi seemed satisfied, and attempted to lighten the mood with a change of subject.

"I'm glad. Now, is there anything else you want to talk about? How are your parents?"

Kristina chuckled.

"They're fine."

"Are they?" he asked again, curious with her avoidance of eye contact.

"yes."

"and you?" he pressed as they walked toward the building.

"I'm fine."

"are you sure?"

The brunette groaned as she pulled out her key card and swiped it at the door.

"Honestly, Dave."

He paused, eye squinted as if he were studying her, trying to determine the validity of her statement.

"Ok...better get to work, then."

* * *

><p>"Hey, JJ!" Derek Morgan called from across the office, trying to get the blonde agent's attention. She was carrying a large stack of files from Hotch's office and didn't seem to hear him the first time he called, so he tried again.<p>

"Hey, Shorty, come over here!"

This got her attention, and she sent an icy glare in his direction before making her way to his desk.

"Never again," she threatened through clenched teeth, trying not to smile as a devilish grin spread across his face.

"What do you need, you jerk?" she teased, bumping him with her elbow and setting the heavy files down on his desk.

"Whoa, don't let those get too comfortable, I don't need all that paperwork." he laughed, his eyes shifting upward as he saw Rossi and Agent Kent enter through the hall.

"Well, she's still here," he sighed.

This made JJ chuckle.

"What, did you think they were going to fire her after her first case?"

"Hotch was pissed," Morgan pointed out, leaning against his desk and slyly watching the tall brunette on the stairs.

"Yeah, but I have a feeling she's not going anywhere soon," JJ replied.

"What do you know?" Morgan frowned, making the younger agent sigh.

"Look, Derek, she's...insufferable, but she knows what she's doing. Rossi trusts her. Maybe you should give her a break."

"You're not getting soft on me, are you?" Morgan grinned.

Jennifer shook her head.

"God, no."

"You're starting to like her, aren't you?" he continued teasing her, and the young blonde decided not to argue with the childish agent, scooping up her files and returning to her desk without another word.

* * *

><p>Kristina had barely made it to her desk before someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. The brunette's head whipped around to see Emily Prentiss standing above her.<p>

"Come here," she motioned for Kristina to follow her. The new girl hesitated briefly, then obediently followed Emily across the bullpen and across the hallway to a dimly-lit office filled with computer screens. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed several colorful toys and stuffed animals scattered around the L-shaped desk. The swivel chair at the center of the room was occupied, its inhabitant facing one of the monitors, information rapidly flashing on the screen.

"Garcia," Emily gently addressed the woman, who spun in her chair.

"Hello, my fair-skinned angel-" she began, halting mid-sentence when she saw Prentiss's company-

"and guest! Hello, Gorgeous," she smiled, "you must be Kristina Kent."

The quirky technical analyst held out her hand, and the new agent shook it.

"You must be Penelope Garcia. I've heard a lot about you," she smiled.

"Oh no," Garcia gasped in mock horror, making Kristina chuckle.

"Only good things, of course."

Penelope wiped her brow in relief.

"Thank goodness."

"Penny went to Cal Tech," Emily pointed out their California connection.

"Oh, impressive!"

"I never actually graduated, so don't be too impressed," Garcia cast a warning glance over at Emily, who grinned.

"Only because you were recruited by the FBI!" she reminded her humble friend.

Kristina couldn't help but enjoy the playful banter between the girls. It gave her hope that maybe, one day, she would be part of the gang.

That is, if she lasted long enough without getting fired.

* * *

><p>Spencer finished his paperwork by 5 o'clock, but waited at his desk half-reading more files and half-watching Kristina diligently churn out most of their potential case files, quickly catching up to speed with the rest of the team. She finished these around 5:45, and the younger agent had already packed his belongings into his satchel for the night. He chose to walk with her to the elevator, hoping he could finally gather the gumption to converse with the new girl when they were alone.<p>

"Hey, Kristina..." he choked as the doors slid shut.

She looked up from her cell phone.

"Hey, Spencer." she nodded in his direction, then returned her attention to her phone. He cleared his throat- in the end, his curiosity was greater than his innate apprehension of interactions with the opposite sex.

"Are you...do you want to get something to eat? Dinner?" he managed to eek out, studying her facial expressions. She let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Reid, but i'm so exhausted- i'm moving into a new apartment right now, and I still need to go to Frank's place across town to pick up the rest of my stuff."

She did not miss the deflation in the younger agent's chest when she shot him down.

"Another time, maybe?" she added, trying to lift his spirits. He seemed to have a newfound interest in his shoes as he replied.

"Sure, yeah. Some other time."

* * *

><p>"Shame on you!"<p>

Frank's voice came from behind a pile of boxes that entered the new apartment and crossed the hardwood floors to what would eventually become the living room. Kristina's new dwelling was nothing too extravagant- the major selling point was the view of the Washington Mall. She had sold most of her furniture in California so the apartment looked embarrassingly bare, even with the dozen or so boxes of her belongings that she had shipped across the country.

"Shame on me, for what?" she shot back as she slid a razor blade through the tape on a box marked "KITCHEN".

"For not going out with that cute genius kid. You need friends, and he seemed nice. Very inoffensive."

Kristina scoffed.

"I'm sure Dr. Reid is perfectly inoffensive," she mocked her best friend, "but i just wasn't up for it tonight. I wanted to get all my stuff in here before we leave for our next case."

Frank gently dropped both boxes on the floor between the kitchen and the living room.

"You mean, you wanted me to carry all these boxes for you before your next case," he corrected her with a grin.

"Oh, c'mon, Frank, you're still big and strong even though you're retired." she teased, pulling plates out of the box and setting them on the counter.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Kent," he shot back.

Kristina shook her head playfully.

"I don't think that's how it goes."

"I'm still upset about you not trying to fit in with these people," he changed the subject again. The brunette frowned and attempted to defend herself.

"For your information, Emily and I worked fine together yesterday."

Frank wore a devilish grin.

"Emily, huh?"

Kristina rolled her eyes.

"No, Frank."

He threw his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, as long as you're making the effort."

"I am!" she snapped, still frustrated at his doubt.

Like he was Mr. Personality, anyway...and she had been trying to get along with the team more- Penelope Garcia seemed to be a bright and bubbly person, which was unusual for their line of work, but she also seemed easy enough to get along with. She got the feeling that Derek didn't trust her, and she didn't exactly make the best impression with Jennifer, either. She would have to win them over somehow, as well as impress their boss. From what Dave had told her, SSAC Hotchner was none to pleased with what had transpired in Columbus. She had a massive amount of catching up to do, and read through several days' worth of files at her desk, but something told her it was going to take nothing short of an act of God to impress that man.

There was a brief moment of silence, which Frank ruined as he ripped open one of the cardboard boxes.

"But why wouldn't you go out with Dr. Reid?"

"Frank, honestly," Kristina groaned, "why don't you go out with him if he's so fantastic, huh?"

"I don't date men," Frank folded his arms.

"Yeah, well, neither do I." Kristina retorted with a laugh.

"It wasn't even a date!" Frank raised his voice, pulling several leather-bound books from the box and stacking them on the floor.

"How do you know that?" Kristina teased, "Were you creeping in the bushes?"

"Yes," Frank shot back with a straight face, "i was. Super stealth. Night vision goggles. The whole shebang."

Kristina couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous her best friend was being.

"Of course you were," she humored him, putting the dishes in one of the cabinets.

"I was. And you were being pertinacious." he grinned.

"Where should I put all these books?"

Kristina paused, her eyes scanning the apartment, a sense of dread coming over her as she realized...

"Oh my God, I don't have any bookshelves," she groaned, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Okay, we can just..." Frank quickly looked around.

"We'll just make a gigantic fortress of books in the living room. You brought a lot of books with you," he observed, making Kristina scoff.

"I only brought half of them, the rest are coming in a week or so."

"You and the genius would probably have the world's most intelligent offspring," Frank teased. Kristina groaned again.

"Frank, if you don't drop it, I swear to God..."

"You'll what?" he grinned. "You'll beat me up?"

Kristina's hazel eyes darkened.

"Don't tempt me."

This made the older ex-agent laugh.

"Yeah, sure...here, help me with all of these books."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

There was a palpable tension in the air as David Rossi stepped into the observation room. They had been called in early this morning- a young girl went missing from her home in broad daylight while she was home alone and local police had reason to believe that it was connected to a similar case that happened one day earlier.

The team immediately flew to Philadelphia to aid the local authorities in the search for the girls. A few hours later, the FBI agents arrived with a laser focus and split up to interview family members, neighbors, and get up to speed on the investigation. No one had to tell them what was at stake: the first 48 hours in missing children cases were the most crucial and they were running out of time.

Morgan and Prentiss were taking their turn with the first missing girl's parents. Lily Sampson, an only child, disappeared while playing in her front yard after school, ten minutes before her parents got home from work. Joanna and Greg were absolutely destroyed, as any parents would be- Joanna had burst into tears several times despite Emily's soft touch as they asked the same typical questions they would after every kidnapping. Were there any strange people hanging around the house, or on the street, in the days leading up to the kidnapping? Did they know of anyone who would want to kidnap their daughter? Had they received any ransom demands from the kidnapper?

The answer was almost always no; no one ever thought this could happen to them. Perhaps that's why it always seemed to shatter the very world they live in, when they found themselves sitting in a police station while their precious little girl was somewhere out there, praying she was still alive.

JJ burst through the door, still holding the phone to ear as she addressed the older agent.

"We have a list of registered sex offenders and people with priors from the Sampson's neighborhood and surrounding area. Phillie PD is tracking them all down as we speak." she whispered, looking up and at the one-way window into the interrogation room. Her heart was breaking for Lily's parents; she couldn't imagine what she would do if someone ever took her son. The cases involving children were always hard for her, but now that she was a mother, she had an entire new perspective on them.

"I'll call Hotch." Rossi began, but JJ stopped him.

"I already talked to him- he's bringing Agent Kent back here so we can help interrogate all the possibles. Penelope's looking into their financials and phone records for anything suspicious, but we really need to narrow down the list," she explained.

Hotch had taken Kristina with him to talk to the Davids', whose daughter Jenna was the young girl who went missing earlier that morning. Both missing girls were nine years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. This might seem like an arbitrary fact to the untrained eye, but to the profilers, this meant that the unsub had a type, and was therefore probably already in the system for prior offenses.

"How's Reid doing with the geological profile?" he quizzed, realizing how long he had been sitting here watching for any signs of a slip-up between the young girl's parents as he glanced at his watch.

"It's hard to pinpoint any specific area with only two points," she sighed, hating that a third victim would likely give them a stronger area of focus.

Rossi knew that nothing was going to make them feel better until they caught the unsub and brought him to justice. Diving headfirst into the job helped them avoid the reality that these families were facing.

"Well, let's get to work, then."

* * *

><p>"What have you got for me, Baby Girl?" Morgan pressed his cell phone to his ear, hoping for good news from the Technical Analyst back at Quantico.<p>

_"I would say I've got nothing but love, Sugar, but I have a lot more than that for you today,"_ Garcia grinned, _"I checked cell phone GPS locations on all the pervs on the days leading up to the kidnappings and two of the creeps had their phones ping off a tower that is smack dab between both homes. Mark Reese and Aaron Garner."_

He smiled.

"You always come through for me, Penelope."

_ "Go catch the bad guys, my Chocolate Thunder,"_ she replied before she hung up.

"Hotch," Derek turned to the team's leader as he entered the room, "that was Garcia- we've got two guys- Reese and Garner were both near enough both houses to have their cell phone GPS ping the same tower."

Hotch processed the information.

"We profiled that the unsub would have issues communicating with women. Have Prentiss interrogate Aaron Garner, and JJ can talk to Reese. I want him out of his comfort zone."

Morgan paused.

"JJ is with the press outside."

Hotch thought fast- it was a risk, handing the reins someone so new to the team that he wasn't entirely sure he trusted yet, much less knew her personal style of interrogation. Still, it didn't seem that he had much choice.

"Get Agent Kent in here," he muttered to Morgan.

* * *

><p>Kristina stood on the far side of the interrogation room, leaning against the wall, arms folded as she spoke to the eerily smug man sitting at the table.<p>

"Mark, I don't know what you think you're getting away with here..." she addressed him casually, but with a firm undertone in her voice.

He simply cocked his head, not fazed enough to turn and face her.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Well, let me explain it to you," she snapped, pacing the length of the room and turning to him with fire in her eyes.

"We know what you did. We know you kidnapped Lily and Jenna. We know they're probably still alive. And you're going to tell us where to find them."

He leaned forward in his chair, still calm.

"If I knew where these people were, why would I tell you?"

"They're children," she shot back, approaching the table to get in his face, trying to bring him out of his comfort zone, "they're nine years old. Blonde hair, blue eyes...just your type, isn't it, Mark?"

He shook his head.

"I can't help you here."

"Nine years old," she reiterated, "and wherever you're keeping them, we _will_ find them. And when we do, you're going to jail for a very, very long time," she promised, not caring to hide her disdain for the man in front of her.

He didn't even flinch.

"I still can't help you...I do hope you find them, before something terrible happens."

Kristina blinked.

"If anything happens to those girls, I swear to God..." she spoke so only he could hear, her hazel eyes narrowing on the suspect... "You'll wish you were dead."

Jennifer had returned from handling the press, turned to Hotch, and lowered her voice.

"Hotch, I'm going in."

He nodded in approval, then exited to the rest of the department to see the progress the uniforms were making at the suspects' homes. The young blonde took a deep breath and slipped through the door. As she passed the suspect, he reached up and stroked her arm gently.

"Well, aren't _you_ adorable?"

Something inside Kristina snapped. She grabbed his wrist and forcibly pinned it to the table, then twisted to pinch the nerve in his shoulder. For the first time since he sat down, Mark Reese's concentration broke.

"Trust me when I tell you that I would love nothing more than to rip your arm off," the brunette seethed through gritted teeth, "touch her again, give me a reason."

Jennifer observed this interaction, and frowned.

"Kristina, I've got this."

_"You piece of scum,"_ Kristina continued to address him, still gripping his left arm.

"Kristina!" the other woman frowned. "Can I talk to you outside for a sec?"

It was only then that the angry brunette loosened her hold on his arm, stomping out of the interrogation room to the eerily quiet observation room.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" JJ folded her arms, a frown still furrowing her brow.

"That guy is a creep," Kristina fumed.

"That was out of line," the blonde reprimanded her, "We're not even sure he's our guy yet. Take a walk. You need to clear your head. I'll finish talking to him alone."

She pointed to the door for emphasis, and Kristina stormed out of the observation room.

* * *

><p>Derek Morgan caught the brunette agent as she breezed past the rest of the department, visibly angry as she burst through the front doors. He followed after her, curiosity getting the better of him.<p>

"Agent Kent!" he called after her, frustrated as she didn't even flinch.

"Kristina!" he tried again, and this time, she halted in the middle of the sidewalk as he caught up to her.

"What the hell is going on? Why aren't you in there interrogating Reese?" he frowned.

"Jennifer tagged in," she muttered, trying to keep her emotions under wraps in front of the supervisory agent.

"What?" he folded his arms, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"I lost my temper," she admitted, jaw clenched.

"I'll say," he shot back, taking a step forward as he continued, "you made quite a scene in there. You wanna tell me why you can't seem to keep your composure?"

"Back off, man..." she snarled, cut off before she could speak again.

"I'm just curious," he snapped, "how on earth you lasted this long in the FBI if you can't even interrogate a suspect without getting kicked out of the room!"

Flames flickered in her hazel eyes as she replied.

"You don't know anything about me, Agent Morgan. Don't pretend like you do."

"No, I don't," he conceded, "because everything is a big fucking secret when it comes to you. I don't like it. I can't trust you if you're hiding things from this team."

"Well, what do you want to know?" she threw her hands up, tears threatening to flood her eyes as she continued.

"You want to know how I spent the past fourteen years of my life searching for the man who killed my sister? You want to know how I was the one who found her, stabbed _twenty-seven fucking times_ in the chest- how we had to get the wood floors in my room replaced because the blood stained it beyond repair? How I could hear my mother sobbing, every night, through my bedroom wall? How it tore my family apart, to the point where I can't even call my parents because it feels like I'm the world's biggest disappointment? You want to know how I feel that guilt every time I see another victim, another person whose life is completely destroyed by pointless violence?"

Kristina's walls had come crashing down, and Derek Morgan seemed unable to speak as she continued.

"You want me to talk about how I failed to do my duty in Nashville, how I failed to keep Katie safe? How he captured her, raped her, _destroyed_ her? The only way I can even sleep at night, Derek," she spat his name, not caring to stop the tears falling from her cheeks, "is if we put the people responsible for all that pain in their place. It's too late for Bridget, it's too late for Katie, and I just _cannot_ lose anymore. Failure is not an option," she sobbed, slightly embarrassed at her outburst but more angry at herself for losing her composure.

"Kristina, I..." Derek lowered his voice, but she stopped him.

"You know what, save it."

A stunned Derek Morgan stood frozen on the sidewalk as Kristina walked away, wiping her tears away on the sleeve of her jacket.

Seconds later, Hotch found Derek outside.

"Morgan, what happened?" He frowned, looking around the building for his new agent, seeing the conflicted look in Derek's eyes.

"Nothing, man...I sent Agent Kent to Garner's house," he lied, hoping his boss wouldn't question it. After she had poured her heart out- even though she was screaming at him- he felt sorry for her. He knew what is was like to carry something like that with you, letting it eat away at your insides. That wasn't something you could just forget.

"Okay..." Hotch let out a deep breath.

"Let's get back inside and try to find these kids."


	10. Chapter 10

Spencer could detect something in the older agent's gait as Morgan joined him in the conference room that had doubled as their headquarters for the past five hours. Rossi had been kind enough to make a trip for the caffeine addict and he clutched his cup of coffee like a lifeline as he looked over the large map of Philadelphia and the surrounding area.

"Tell me you got something, Pretty Boy," Morgan sighed, leaning against the round table and glancing at the map, which had been pinned with brightly colored tabs to designate both the Davids' and the Sampsons' homes as well as their two prime suspects'.

"I wish I could say that," Reid sighed, "but all we know is that the unsub, whomever it might be, likely has a secondary location where he keeps the victims."

"Because both of these men have close family members," Morgan noted, seeing Reid's reasoning for the profile.

"Exactly. Unfortunately, Philadelphia is the largest city in Pennsylvania and is 142.6 square miles, which doesn't help us narrow down a location in the slightest. Garcia is tracking down any extended family members for other possible second locations, and Prentiss and JJ are in with both suspects. Neither of them has cracked yet."

Morgan nodded.

"How long has Emily been in there?"

"Almost an hour," Reid replied, taking another sip of coffee.

"I'm going to see if I might have better luck," Morgan turned around and caught Hotch in the doorway. Their leader nodded in agreement.

"It can't hurt. We need to narrow this search quickly. We're wasting too much time."

Morgan quickly left the conference room, leaving Aaron alone with the youngest member of the team.

"Reid, do you know what's going on between Morgan and Agent Kent?" he inquired, hoping to shed some light on his right-hand man's peculiar behavior.

Spencer shook his head, a furrow in his brow.

"No, I didn't know anything was...if I find out anything, I'll let you know."

Satisfied, Hotch left to talk to the chief of police about their game plan after they narrowed their search enough to begin canvassing for the two missing children. Time was of the essence.

* * *

><p>Kristina was halfway back to the station with a cup of coffee when she received a text from Morgan asking her to check up on the second suspect's home. Having spent most of her morning grilling Reese with questions, she needed a crash course on everything there was to know about Aaron Garner.<p>

_"You've reached Penelope the Magnificent, how shall I dazzle you today?"_ the tech analyst chirped happily, causing a smile from Kristina for the first time that day.

"Hey, Penelope, can you do something for me?"

_"Anytime, Gorgeous, that's what i'm here for!"_

The brunette took a sip of her coffee and turned on her GPS.

"I need everything you can find on Aaron Garner, starting with a home address."

After a few strokes of the keys, Garcia had the suspect's file up on her screen.

_"Aaron Garner, 5621 Maple Street. Age 38, arrested in 2009 for exposing himself to a minor, ew-"_ Penelope winced before she continued- _" and was released in January. Garner's wife, Mary, took care of their 7-year-old son Grady while daddy was in the slammer. His credit looks normal, no excessive spending or suspicious trips out of town...but his cell did ping off the tower nearest the Sampsons and the Davids on both days. You think he's our guy?"_

Kristina heaved a heavy sigh.

"I don't know yet."

_"He's got a _kid_,"_ Penelope remarked, and the seasoned agent knew exactly what she was thinking-how could someone have a child and then turn around and harm other peoples' children? Aaron Garner certainly wasn't going to be winning any Father of the Year awards any time soon.

"Thank you, Penelope," Kristina muttered, hanging up the call as she turned the corner into the Garners' neighborhood.

One of the first things Kristina learned when she came to the Bureau was to trust her gut, because most of the time, her gut feeling tended to be spot on. That's why she was thrown for a loop when she arrived at the Garner house- a minivan sat in the driveway, and a little boy was contentedly drawing on the concrete with sidewalk chalk while his mother watched from the porch. It struck her as odd, perhaps, that Garner's wife hadn't gone to the station, when the uniforms brought him in. Then again, maybe it was best for her to stay with their son. It would do Grady no good to know who his father was. Kristina hoped, for their sake, that he truly was a reformed man.

As she approached the house, Mrs. Garner stood, noting her presence.

"You folks need something else?" she remarked incredulously.

Kristina sighed.

"Mrs. Garner, I'm sorry to bother you...I know the police have already talked to you, but we're narrowing the profile so if I could just ask you a couple more questions..."

Grudgingly, the small woman agreed.

"Come inside...and call me Mary, please."

The inside of the house was every bit as normal as the outside; picture frames depicting a happy family hung on the wall, and toys littered the living room. They sat on the couch facing the mantle, where photos of Grady were proudly displayed.

"Mary, does your husband have any other property?"

The reserved woman shook her head. Kristina tried again.

"Did he have a regular hangout? What was his favorite place in the city?"

Mary bit her lip.

"I don't know...Truth be told, Agent Kent, we aren't as close as we used to be. We don't talk hardly at all anymore, unless it's about Grady. He's such a good father, you have to believe me..."

"But he changed," Kristina guessed, noting the uncertainty in Mary's eyes.

"When?"

Mary gulped.

"About a month, I guess?"

"Was he becoming more irritable, more withdrawn?"

Panic set in her eyes as she attempted to justify where she felt the line of questioning was going.

"Yes, but a couple of days ago he took Grady out for an all-day hike and they came back just all smiles...I tell you, that little boy makes him better," she remarked hopefully, and Kristina's heart sunk as she began to connect the dots. Her gut was telling her that the hike with Grady on the day Lily Sampson disappeared was not a coincidence.

"Mary," she approached the situation cautiously, "is there any chance you could let me talk to Grady?"

Mary was about to object, but Kristina stopped her.

"He doesn't have to know anything about the case, I'll make sure of that," she clarified, trying to ease the mother's worry, "I just need to know what happened before, during, and after that hike."

Mary's expression was fixed into a frown. Kristina knew it was a hard decision, subjecting such a young kid-Grady was only 7, after all- to interrogation, but the thirty-three year old had plenty of experience in working with children. Her mission was to get information while simultaneously protecting them from it.

Finally convinced that Agent Kent's priorities were in the right place, Mary nodded her head.

She still watched like a hawk as the FBI agent approached her son, squatted with her hands on her knees and looked over the concrete doodles in the driveway.

"You're quite the artist," Kristina remarked, offering a sideways smile at the little boy, who looked up from what he was currently drawing- a house with a family of four in front of it. Grady shrugged noncommittally.

"I guess..."

"You like drawing with sidewalk chalk?" she asked gently, hoping to convince him that she wasn't a threat to him or his mom.

"I guess..." he replied again, putting the finishing touches on the roof. Kristina inspected the drawing closer.

"That must be your mom, huh..." she pointed to the taller woman, complete with yellow-blonde hair and a pink dress. Grady nodded.

"And that's your dad," she continued, pointing to the older male, "and there's you..." the smaller stick figure next to him, pausing as she reached the young blonde girl with pigtails to the right of Grady in the family portrait.

"Who's this, Grady?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, and Kristina thought it wise not to push him any more about the fourth member of the stick figure family.

"Your mom told me that you and your dad like to go exploring in the woods," she smiled as he dropped the chalk.

"My dad always dragged me and my sister along to camp with him when I was little. She didn't like the woods so much, but I loved it...I used to pretend we were explorers, navigating uncharted territory. I used to scare my sister so bad- I would act like I saw a bear, and just _take off_ running," she grinned as Grady giggled.

"Have you ever seen a bear in real life? Those things are _huge_!" she joked, glad to see the boy opening up to her when he shook his head, still laughing.

"I doubt they have bears in Philadelphia," she assured him with a wink.

"My friend Eric's dad saw a black bear once!" Grady shot back, and Kristina gasped.

"Oh no! What happened? Did he get away?"

Grady nodded.

"Yeah, he scared the bear away by making lots of noise."

Finally convinced that she had warmed him up to her enough to get an honest answer, Kristina slyly asked him the question that she really needed the answer to.

"Do you and your dad usually spend all day out in the woods? I would get tired after a while...all that exploring is hard work," she admitted, waiting patiently for Grady's answer.

"Sometimes...other times, he takes me to my friend Eric's house before so he can run errands," he explained matter-of-factly, "Eric has an XBox."

"Oh, an XBox, huh? That's awesome." Kristina faked a smile as her heart sunk lower in her chest. Her gut was now telling her that Aaron Garner was their unsub.

* * *

><p>Emily bent over the table in the observation room as Morgan paced circles in front of the impervious Aaron Garner. He remained unaffected by all of the intimidating Agent's interrogation tactics, tempting Derek to resort to beating the information out of him. Instead, he walked it off, waiting for the man to crack on his own.<p>

When her cell phone rang, she checked the caller ID before pressing it to her ear.

"Kristina, what did you find out?"

_ "Garner took his son hiking the day Lily Sampson was kidnapped, but he dropped Grady off at a friends house for a couple of hours beforehand to run 'errands'..."_

Emily paused.

"That's not a coincidence."

_"No, it's definitely not. Grady also drew a family portrait with an extra little blonde-haired girl, and he got really nervous when I mentioned it. I think he knows something- I think the little girl in the drawing was Lily. Emily, I think this is our guy."_

The older agent exhaled, both relieved and distraught with the notion that the supposed loving father had kidnapped two children.

_"The second location is in the woods somewhere- have Reid look at hiking trails, somewhere with enough land for him to escape detection but close enough that he could make it back in town in time to pick up Grady."_

Emily nodded.

"Will do. Thanks, Kristina."

_"This sucks,"_ the younger agent huffed.

"Yeah," Emily conceded, turning her gaze to Garner, "it really does."

She hung up and immediately burst inside the interrogation room, ignoring Morgan's confusion as she addressed the man sitting at the table directly.

"Tell me, Aaron, what kind of person drops their kid off at a _friend's_ house when they're supposed to be spending quality time with them?"

Garner paused.

"I was running some errands," he lied, a furrow in his brow.

"Bullshit," Emily spat, "we both know that's not what you were doing, you sick son of a bitch."

Aaron folded his arms not in defeat, but in defiance.

"Prove it."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Reid's mind had shifted into overdrive as his geographical profile narrowed, face fixed in concentration as he correlated the new data with the established profile, placing particular emphasis on heavily wooded areas on the outskirts of the city. if Garner was truly hiding the children in the woods and visiting the site hours later with his son, he would want to pick a location just far enough that his ritual would not be interrupted by any familiar faces. After a few seconds, Reid was able to confidently circle a large, elongated strip of land northeast of downtown Philadelphia.

"Hotch!" The youngest member of the team called out, quickly realizing that he was alone in the observation room. He rushed out into the bullpen and found their leader finishing a quiet conversation with the Chief of Police that ended when Hotch caught him out of the corner of his eye.

"Reid, what do you have?"

"Pennypack Park. It's 1,600 acres in Northeast Philadelphia, it's thirty-four miles from the Garners' house."

The older man nodded.

"What made you choose this location?" he asked, not questioning Reid's judgement, but needing to be sold on the location before he advised the Chief to send the calvary out into the woods. Reid paused

"He's going to be overly-cautious. It's 1,600 acres, most of which is left untouched by visitors. He's keeping them in the park- I'm sure of it."Hotch arched an inquisitive eyebrow, not needing to verbalize the question on his mind.

"Seventy-five percent sure," the genius qualified, eliciting a chuckle from his superior.

"It makes sense...and it's our best lead yet. I'm going to go tell the Chief- you round up the team and work on assignments for the search. We'll let local PD keep Garner in their custody."

There was no way the BAU was going to stay behind in the admittedly widespread search for the two missing girls.

Reid rode with JJ and Rossi to begin the canvass of the park, followed by the calvary of Philadelphia policemen with the search dogs. There was a tense silence in the air, not broken until the three agents stepped out of the SUV and began giving the orders to the local force.

Spencer couldn't help but notice how the usually strong, composed blonde was struggling to hide he panic in her eyes. The cases with kids were hard for everybody, but hardest on the young mother. He wished he could say something to make it better, that some statistic could ease the pain she was feeling, but they all knew the odds-more than likely, at least one of the children wouldn't be alive when they found them.

Calling out desperately into the thick woods, Spencer led a group of officers West of their 'base camp'. JJ and her group fanned out in the opposite direction, and Rossi marched straight ahead with his group.

Emily, Hotch, Kent, and Morgan were driving further north to begin the search at the other end of the park. The search dogs' handlers carried pieces of Lily and Jenna's clothing in order to track their scent even in the vast array of smells distracting them in the park.

Minutes passed like hours as the tall doctor trudged through the brush following the dogs, hoping that they weren't too late.

At three o'clock, after searching for two hours, Reid's phone rang and he immediately flipped it up to his ear.

"Hotch, did you find something?"

Their leader replied, voice rushed, breathing heavily as though he were running.

"The dogs have something, we're following it now. Call the others."

* * *

><p>Reid's phone call made Prentiss and Morgan turn an immediate one-eighty. The agents and their search group made a bee-line toward where they knew Hotch and Kent had been searching. It was no wonder that bastard had escaped detection; they had traveled deep into the forest where few, if any, park attendees dared to venture. They almost got lost more than once, relying on the search dogs' barks to guide them to where the other agents had stopped.<p>

A small, underground wooden shelter disguised by greenery blended into the hillside and they almost passed it, if it weren't for the dogs. Hotch made quick work of the hatch and rushed inside. What he saw was a gruesome picture: a small, blonde-haired girl was bound and gagged, covered in dirt, curled up in the corner. When she heard him enter, her bloodshot eyes blinked open in terror.

Though she initially struggled, once Agent Kent had her wrapped tightly in her arms, she calmed down enough to confirm that it was Jenna David. Kristina's heart was lodged in her throat as she realized that Lily Sampson was not as lucky as Jenna had been.

The dogs found her body a few hundred feet from the shelter. When JJ arrived, Emily and Spencer pulled her aside and filled her in on what happened.

It was a bittersweet trek back to civilization with Jenna safely clinging to Kristina and refusing to be separated from the doting brunette.

This was the hardest part of their job- sending one family's spirits soaring with the return of their daughter, but having to break another family's heart. JJ handled both like a champ. Jenna finally loosened her grip on Kristina when she saw her mother walk through the door at the station.

No one said a word on the flight back to Quantico.

* * *

><p>Kristina walked out to her car, the ache still in her chest from the look on Jenna David's face before she wrapped her arms around the frightened 9-year-old. She was unsure of how to feel in that moment. Relief seemed to be a selfish emotion when all three families were forever going to be changed by Aaron Garner's actions. The Davids would try to recover from the kidnapping, but Kristina had seen far too many families crumble after tragic events like this. The Sampsons lost their daughter, and Grady Garner lost his father. Would any of them ever be okay again?<p>

The brunette didn't even notice Derek Morgan following after her until he tapped her on the shoulder.

"What, Morgan?" she sighed, wheeling around to face him.

He had both hands in his pockets.

"Look, Kristina, we've all had a really emotional day," he began, "and i just wanted to let you know- what you told me, about Katie..."

"Morgan, I don't want to talk about it," Kristina groaned, fishing for her keys in her purse as they neared her car. Morgan slid between her and the driver's side door.

"Okay, fine, we won't talk about it. You're going to have to talk about it eventually, I guarantee you, if you pull a stunt like today in front of Hotch,"he warned.

Kristina was about to object, but Derek stopped her.

"I'm not going to tell him. I'm not going to tell secret is safe with me. Because I know what that's like. The guilt..."

She took a deep breath and calmed down, upon seeing the sincere look on his face.

"Look, I appreciate it. I don't need a pity party. I just want to do my job, catch the bad guy, and do it again tomorrow."

Derek smiled, glad that she was no longer putting up the impenetrable wall.

"Well, we don't have to go back 'til Monday."

"Thank God," she laughed, "we get to sleep in tomorrow."

Derek finally moved away from the door.

"Maybe we'll hang out this weekend. The team hasn't gone out for drinks in a while."

"Yeah, I could use a drink after the week I've had," Kristina nodded, slipping into her car and waving to the agent outside.

"Okay, goodnight Morgan," she smiled, and Derek waved back as she started the car and pulled out of her parking space. After a few minutes, Kristina hit number two on her speed dial.

Like clockwork, her best friend answered after one ring.

"Hey, Kricket, are you back yet? Wanna pick up some dinner?"

"Yeah, we just got back...listen, Frank, can you come over tonight?" she sighed, waiting at a stop light tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, yeah, i can do that..." he paused. "are you okay?"

"I will be," she decided, "I just need my best friend."

"I'll leave right now," he stood, turning circles in his apartment."as soon as i find my keys."

* * *

><p>"Garth, marriage is punishment for death in some countries!"<p>

"Contract or no, I will not bow to any sponsor!"

"I once thought I had mono for an entire year. It turns out I was just really bored."

"She tested very high on the strokability scale!"

"It's like a new pair of underwear. At first it's constrictive, but after a while it becomes a part of you..."

"Oh, that was Garth, not Wayne...take a drink!"

Frank laughed, tipping back his whiskey in defeat as Kristina claimed the final victory in their Wayne's World drinking game. Always the gracious winner, the brunette finished the rest of her glass of red wine and set it on the counter with a decisive clink.

"That was fun."

"Only because you won," he muttered, "again."

The younger girl flashed a grin, then retreated to the kitchen to retrieve more wine, almost tripping into the wall of books dividing the two rooms.

"You're such a good sport, Frank," she teased, grabbing the bottle as her best friend replied.

"I try my best," he smirked, pouring himself more whiskey, finding a lull in the conversation he had been waiting for in the past hour. He knew he would have to broach the subject carefully, but now was the best time to bring it up, after giving her an ego boost and getting a few glasses of wine in her.

"So, Kricket, can I talk to you about something?"She was immediately suspicious of his tone of voice.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing bad," he assured her, "i promise. I just wanted to..." he paused, waiting for her to sit down.

Her eyebrow was arched as she waited for him to continue.

"Well, you know how you're at the BAU now..."

"yes..." she nodded, eyes locked on his.

"And you know how I was in academy with Emily Prentiss..."

Suddenly, it clicked in Kristina's brain.

"Are you asking my permission to ask Emily out?"

He exhaled a deep breath.

"Yeah, kinda."

"Frank, why are you asking my permission to date Emily?" she chuckled, plopping down on the couch next to her best friend.

He hesitated.

"Are you sure you don't-"

"No, Frank, I don't mind," she cut him off, pouring the wine into her glass.

"I think it's a good idea, even. you need more friends, Frank." she jabbed.

Frank studied her for a moment, trying to detect whether or not her approval was sincere. Satisfied, he took a swig of his drink.

"Good, because I already did."

"Frank!" Kristina swatted at his shoulder, sloshing the whiskey in his glass.

"Hey, watch it, pal," he warned, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder."Do you wanna talk about the case today?"Kristina avoided the question by taking a sip of wine.

"I don't know if I'd call it a win," she admitted finally.

"What happened, Kricket? talk to me," he begged, hoping she wouldn't shut him out like she had after Nashville. He felt like he just got his best friend back, and didn't want to lose her to the job again.

She sighed.

"Two little girls were kidnapped. We could only save one. We were too late."

Frank wrapped his left arm around her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Did you get the guy?"

"Yeah," she sighed again.

"Good."

"That little girl," Kristina shuddered, thinking of how Jenna would have to grow up with this, how she would have to live her life knowing that monster took her, how easily he could have killed her too. Her innocence, her childhood had been ripped from her, and it wasn't fair. At least the family could sleep tonight knowing that the man responsible would go to prison for a very, very long time. That would be enough, for now.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

After earning a relaxing weekend off from work, JJ set out to distract herself from the case her team had just finished. It was always hard, but over the years she had learned how to cope. Generally the cure was either good company or the world of fiction, and today she collapsed on the couch with a good book, intent on sitting there for as long as she could manage.

Hours passed as she dove into the book headfirst, only shot from the world within its pages when the front door swung open and two boys burst into the house. Spencer was chasing Henry, both of them laughing as the five-year-old made a beeline for the kitchen. Jennifer reluctantly put a bookmark in the novel to save her place and called after the rambunctious children.

"Be careful, boys," she chuckled to herself, amused at how well Spencer got along with Henry. When the two of them were together, it was almost like she was raising two kids instead of one.

There were other times, however, that Spencer was a lifesaver. Since Will returned to New Orleans, it had been tough on her little boy. Spencer immediately stepped up and spent a lot more time at her house, helping her take care of Henry. JJ was incredibly grateful for Reid's influence on her son.

She could tell something had been bothering him all week, though…and she had a feeling she knew why. Everyone had been thrown for a loop when Agent Kent showed up.

After conning Henry into a nap, she finally got a chance to talk to him about it.

"So…rough week, huh?"

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee-half sugar, just how he liked it.

"Yeah, seems like it. We haven't had two cases in a single week in the past six months."

JJ hesitated, then decided to just come out with it.

"Can we just talk about the elephant in the room?"

Reid face scrunched in confusion.

"What's that?"

"Agent Kent," she clarified, "y'know, I'm not completely sure she isn't bat-shit crazy."

Reid looked down at his coffee cup.

"I asked her out."

"_What?" _JJ exclaimed and Reid continued, not noting the horror in her voice at this revelation.

"On a date."

"Who?"

"Kristina," he frowned.

JJ pinched the bridge of her nose, still trying to process this new information.

"Oh my God, Spence, were you ever going to tell me?"

He sighed.

"Well, she said no."

"Well, now I know she's nuts…but when did this happen?"

Reid was clearly becoming uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

"Tuesday, after we got back from Columbus."

JJ squinted her eyes, trying to put the pieces together… but there was still one pressing question on her mind.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"She's…she's pretty?" he offered lamely.

"She's pretty, alright. Pretty insane!" JJ retorted. "Spence, you know she almost _assaulted _Mark Reese?"

"No…"

"She damn near ripped his arm off yesterday."

Reid paused.

"JJ, why are you telling me this?"

"I just want you to be careful," she explained, getting a chuckle from the taller, younger man.

"I highly doubt Kristina is going to attack me, Jayje."

Glad she finally got a smile out of him, JJ grinned.

"Well, if she did, I'd hate to say 'I told you so'."

Spencer's grin widened.

"Actually, you'd probably love to be able say that to me."

JJ swatted his shoulder playfully.

"Spence, you're the worst."

"That's impossible to quantify, but I get the sentiment," he cracked, causing laughter to bubble from Jennifer's chest.

"Stop, you're going to make me wake up Henry," she wheezed, burying her head in his chest to stifle the sound. Even Reid had to chuckle as he took another sip of his coffee.

"I think he'll be up there for a while…I wore him out today."

"Thank you, by the way," JJ replied, but Spencer waved her off.

"You don't have to thank me. I like hanging with Henry. Helps distract me from things." He shrugged, and JJ studied his face.

"Have you been having any more headaches lately?"

He looked up from his coffee.

"What? No."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Really," he assured her, "I'm fine. Promise."

* * *

><p>Frank paced his living room, trying to remember if he forgot any details for that night. He already called and double-checked the reservation at Tosca, a fancy Italian restaurant befitting the beautiful, elegant Emily Prentiss. He changed his shirt and jacket combination at least five times, and had called Kristina in a panic trying to figure out what color of socks and belt to wear. He had filled the tank of his SUV earlier, and even cleaned the inside of the car so she wouldn't think he was a slob. Still, he couldn't help but think he was forgetting something important…<p>

"Flowers, shit," he cursed under his breath, then checked his watch. He still had enough time to stop somewhere and pick out flowers before he picked Emily up from her penthouse apartment.

Frank grabbed his wallet, his keys, and checked his appearance in the mirror one more time before he bolted out the door.

Halfway to the flower shop, he pulled out his phone and hit redial.

"_Hello?"_

"What flowers do I get?" Frank tried not to sound panicked. Kristina chuckled.

"_Frank, you're a big boy, I'm sure you can figure it out."_

"No, yeah, of course I can…What do girls like? Roses?…Daffodils? Mums?"

"_You're seriously freaking out about flowers right now," _she chuckled again.

"I'm not freaking out," he protested, "and you're not helping me right now."

Kristina cleared her throat and thought for a second.

"_Okay, um…you can't go wrong with roses."_

"Okay, so a dozen red roses?"

"_No," _she corrected him, _"not red. Red isn't for a first date."_

He groaned.

"Why is this so complicated? What color do I get?"

After thinking for a few seconds more, she replied.

"_Lavender."_

"So, purple flowers are first date material?" he remarked, and she grinned.

"_No, lavender. It's a light purple. Ask the people at the floral shop to fix it up with other flowers, they'll take care of you."_

He nodded.

"Okay, thanks Kricket. You're a lifesaver."

Kristina smiled.

"_You're welcome, Frank. Good luck tonight…knock 'em dead."_

He hung up as he pulled in front of the flower shop. Ten minutes and fifty dollars later, Frank emerged with twelve lavender roses dressed with a couple other fancy flowers with names he couldn't recall if his life depended on it. The important thing was, he was ten minutes early to Emily's apartment.

He received two thumbs up from the doorman as he entered, which he took as a good sign.

Emily answered within seconds of knocking on her door, and Frank stumbled back when the door swung open.

"Hey, Frank," she smiled, and the forty-five year old man almost forgot how to speak.

"Hi," he managed, still taking in Emily's figure in the form-fitting little black dress she wore. Her hair was pulled up out of her face revealing small pearl earrings and her strong jaw line. Her lipstick was a perfect contrast to her creamy, ivory skin.

"You clean up nice," she remarked, and he inhaled sharply, realizing he had been staring.

"You too- you look…wow."

He awkwardly help up the flowers to make up for his lack of coherency. She gasped.

"Oh my God, these are beautiful! Thank you," she took them, holding them up so she could inhale their scent, "I'm going to put these in a vase, then we can go."

He nodded, and watched as she turned and walked into the kitchen.

"I hope you like Italian," he called feebly into the other room.

"Are you kidding?" she laughed, coming back into view. "I'm always up for some good Italian cuisine. Alright, all set."

He opened the door for her when they got to the car, and the smile she gave him made his chest swell with happiness. He was willing to do just about anything to make her smile like that again.

The silence in the car was impeding what he would consider progress, so he brought up the one thing they had in common-the person who brought them together again, after all those years.

"So, how's my girl Kristina working out with the BAU?"

"She's…very dedicated to the job," Emily replied lamely.

Frank chuckled.

"She's a little intense. She doesn't really make it easy to get to know her," he added, and Emily nodded.

"Yeah, I've noticed. But we've all got our hang-ups."

"You seem pretty damn perfect to me," Frank grinned.

Emily chuckled.

"Oh Frank, if you only knew…"

* * *

><p>Morgan got back from his nighttime job around 8pm, and collapsed on the couch after a quick shower, still a little disappointed that his crew had bailed on him tonight. Hotch was with Jack, Emily had a date, Spencer and JJ were taking Henry to see some kids' movie…even Garcia had failed him- she was spending her evening playing some online computer game with her boyfriend, Kevin.<p>

He would've called Kristina, but after how she was acting the day before, he doubted she would be receptive to any one-on-one time with him.

He knew very little about Kristina Kent, but what he did know scared him a little bit.

He knew that whatever happened in Nashville went so terribly wrong that the file was sealed-he checked-that it caused one Bureau legend to retire because of a 'bum knee', one agent to receive a demotion and a transfer across the country, and that involved the death of a young girl named Katie.

Curiosity got the better of him. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and hit #2 on his speed dial.

"_Derek, my love hunk, what's up?"_

He smiled.

"Baby Girl, can you look something up for me?"

"_I'm kinda busy here," _she muttered.

"Can you pause it?"

"_You can't pause World of Warcraft!" _

She groaned, hitting a few keys, then returning her attention to the phone call.

"_Okay, what do you need, Derek?"_

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" He grinned.

"Can you find a file for me?"

She nodded.

"_Sure, what am I looking for?"_

"A murder victim in or around Nashville about six months ago. All I have is a first name: Katie."

Garcia paused, realizing what Morgan was doing.

"_Nashville? Morgan, are you sure you should be snooping in Kristina's business like this?"_

He frowned.

"I'm not snooping."

"_It feels like snooping," _she shot back.

Morgan sighed.

"Please, Penelope. I need to know."

There was an elongated silence on the other end, but she finally caved in.

"_Her name is Katie Glenn. She was 22, almost graduated from Tennessee state with a Bachelor's in Forensic Science before she was killed in a fire. I set you the file. Please be careful," _she pleaded.

"I will. Thanks, Baby Girl. Enjoy your game."

He hung up and pulled his laptop over, opening the file and was immediately struck by what he saw.

"Well, this just got interesting…" he muttered to himself, eyes still fixed on the photo on file for Katie Glenn.

Morgan quickly dialed another number.

"JJ, you gotta see this…"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Kristina looked up at the brick apartment building before her, checking the address again on a slip of paper to make sure it was the right place.

Satisfied that Penelope hadn't pranked her and sent her to the wrong building, the brunette pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine.

Spencer's apartment was on the second floor at the end of the hall. Kristina paused briefly, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door.

The younger agent was frozen in shock when the door swung open.

"Hi," Kristina broke the silence, trying to determine if this visit was a big mistake. Spencer didn't look like he was expecting any visitors that day- he donned a old gray sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and of course, his trademark mismatched socks.

"Hi...come in, come in," Reid replied, opening the door further to let the brunette into his apartment.

She shuffled across the aged wood floors to follow Spencer into the living room, where an old, worn, gray couch faced a tv in front of an exposed brick wall. He picked up a quilt that was crumpled up on the couch, making room for her to sit.

"Sorry my place is such a mess..." he mumbled, but Kristina waved it off.

"No worries, I just want to stop by and...I got you something," she held out the book, a small peace offering that she picked up after coming back from Columbus.

His lips curled into a smile when he read the cover.

"_Intermediate French for Dummies_..."

"Yeah...I couldn't find _Intermediate French for Geniuses _but I figured that's the next best thing," she quipped with a smile.

He turned to the back cover and she continued.

"Should take you what, five minutes to read that entire thing?"

"At three-hundred and eighteen pages, assuming it's the standard two-fifty words-per-page, it would take me just under 4 minutes to read it," he replied quickly, and Kristina chuckled.

_"Vous ne'êtes pas r_éel_..." _she muttered under her breath, catching Spencer's attention.

"What was that?"

"It's all in the pronunciation," she changed the subject, "maybe I could help you practice sometime."

Reid paused, studying her expression.

"Kristina, what are you really doing here?"

She sighed.

"I'm trying to apologize."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he shot back all too quickly, and Kristina shook her head.

"Yes, I do. I was a jerk. I really hope we can be friends."

"I don't really have friends," Reid mumbled.

The older woman leaned back into the couch.

"Well, now you do."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mama Bear, how's it going?" Penelope greeted her best friend as she let herself into the Jareau household, where JJ and Henry were wrestling on all fours in the living room. While his mom was momentarily distracted by their visitor, Henry took the opportunity to throw all of his weight into her, knocking her to the side. She retaliated by pinning him to the floor with her left forearm.<p>

"Hey Pen, we're great-gimme a second..."

Despite his best attempts to free himself from her hold, Henry was trapped. JJ tickled the four-year-old and sent him into a fit of giggles.

"Say it," she prodded him, and he shrieked in response.

"Uncle! Uncle!"

Jennifer rose victorious, while Henry dramatically sprawled across the carpet in defeat.

"Mama Bear don't mess around," Garcia noted, holding her arms out for a hug from the petite blonde. JJ grinned.

"I let him win, sometimes."

"You guys are just too cute for words," the tech analyst decided, lowering her voice so that Henry couldn't hear.

"We need to talk, Jayje. Minus Baby Bear."

Jennifer nodded, and turned to her son.

"Hey, Henry...Penelope and I need to talk about grown-up stuff, why don't you go upstairs and play with some of your toys?"

Henry bounded up the stairs and the two women were left alone.

"Okay, Pen, spill."

"I'm worried about Morgan." she blurted out. "He called me last night asking for the name of a victim in Nashville from 6 months ago and it just doesn't feel right, Jayje."

Jennifer sighed.

"He called me too."

"Then you know what he sounded like. JJ, he's freaking out over this thing and I don't know what to do."

She glanced down at her lap and then back up at her best friend.

"Y'know, I'm not sure what to think anymore, to be honest."

This made Penelope pause.

"What? What do you mean?"

Jennifer knew that Garcia didn't care for the harsh side of their job, but when Morgan called her last night all the pieces of the puzzle known as Kristina Kent began falling into place.

"Morgan sent me Katie Glenn's autopsy report. She showed signs of being bound, tortured, and sexually assaulted...before being burned in a gasoline fire in downtown Franklin, Tennessee."

Garcia winced as JJ gave her the gruesome details.

"There was different stages of bruising on her torso, meaning that whoever had her, kept her for several days. The guy who did this...he had to be one sick son of a bitch. But none of this was in the file."

"What does that mean?" Penny inquired, not entirely sure if she wanted to know.

"It means there was a cover-up. Agent Kent and Agent Washer's names were nowhere near this case, I checked. But when Katie Glenn applied to the FBI, Kristina wrote her a glowing letter of recommendation. She said Katie felt like a sister to her."

There was a furrow in Penelope's brow as she processed this information.

JJ continued.

"Regardless of what really happened, it was so bad that they were reassigned. Frank Washer, one of the greatest agents on the West Coast, retired twelve years early. They were chasing an unsub who might've been one of the most horrific sociopathic killers in the past ten years and the entire case just...disappeared."

"We shouldn't know all of this, Jayje!" Penelope insisted.

"It sucks, I know, but if she's going to stay on the team we need to know. Agents need a hell of a lot more than six months of therapy to recover from something like that."

Penelope had to conceded to that fact, based on personal experience that she'd rather not relive.

"One thing's for sure...work is going to be awful awkward on Monday morning."

She froze.

"You can't tell Hotch."

"Why not?"

"Because he has to report to Strauss!" Penelope shot back, frustrated.

"Jayje, you can't do that to her. Think about all she's lost already."

Jennifer's mind immediately shot to that night a week ago when the girls learned about Special Agent Kristina Kent and her sister Bridget, the murder victim. She instinctively reached up and felt the pendant of her sister's necklace around her neck

"You're right," she conceded.

"And don't you forget it, sister," Penelope smiled.

JJ's phone chimed, bringing a much-needed change of subject.

"That was Emily..." JJ grinned, knowing that her best friend would be very interested to hear how her date went.

"He bought her flowers...took her to Tosca."

Penelope gasped.

"Good man!"

"She really likes him."

"Well, at least one of us is having good luck in that area," Penny chuckled.

"Tell me about it," JJ retorted, rolling her eyes playfully.

* * *

><p>Kristina shoved the empty take-out box of orange chicken to the side as she propped her feet up on the coffee table. Her phone rang again-the fourth time in the past half hour- and she ignored it, again. The last thing she needed was a pity party courtesy of Derek Morgan. One apology was enough for today-now she just wanted to sink into the couch and distract herself from her mandatory one-week evaluation with Agent Hotchner tomorrow morning.<p>

The way she saw it, she had a fifty-fifty chance of staying in the unit. She had lost her balance a couple of times, had forgotten to keep her composure. The seasoned Agent had been decidedly reckless with her second chance, but she wouldn't let it happen again. She would be the best damn profiler they had ever seen.

A knock on the door broke her focus, and a furrow formed in her brow as she instinctively reached for her gun.

When a familiar voice called out her name, however, she relaxed her shoulders and stood to see to her visitor.

She frowned upon seeing SSA Prentiss standing in front of her door.

"Emily, what are you doing here?"

Ignoring the indignation in her tone, Emily replied nonchalantly.

"The team is going out; Morgan said you didn't answer your phone."

"Yeah, i'm not feeling up to it tonight."

Emily could tell something was bothering her. She had a feeling she knew the answer to the question before she even asked.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Kristina looked down at her feet.

"Not particularly..."

Predictable.

"Okay," she began, "Y'know, I don't think i'm feeling up to it tonight either. But, if you're interested..."

Emily pulled a bottle of red wine out of her purse, and Kristina's eyes lit up.

"You came prepared."

"I had a feeling," she shot back with a smile.

Kristina went in search of a corkscrew for the Bordeaux, while Emily followed her into the kitchen, passing the mountain of books.

"You have quite a collection here," she noted, picking up a hard copy of _The Great Gatsby._

"Where did you find all of these?"

"They were my dad's," Kristina explained as she opened the bottle of wine.

"He was a literature professor at Stanford. He gave them to me when I graduated, a sort of passing the torch. That one you're holding there, that's probably the most popular one. First edition, 1925. it belonged to my grandfather."

Emily carefully set it down as Kristina shuffled into the living room with two glasses of wine.

"So the intelligence runs in the family, huh," she noted as the younger brunette handed her one of the glasses.

Kristina shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

Emily immediately noticed the hesitation at the mention of her family.

"You miss your parents?"

She let out a deep sigh, confirming Emily's hunch.

"We don't talk very often. I love my parents, but I just...they shouldn't have to know what we do every day."

"My mom and I haven't spoken in probably six months," Emily admitted, taking a sip of wine. Kristina studied her for a moment.

"Emily, what are you really doing here?"

Emily should have known the young agent would rather get to the point than engage in pointless small talk. Kristina was more like her than she realized...which is partially why she had to come here. She could see the pain behind the detached, laser-like focus. She remembered that feeling, all those years ago, when she failed to keep her emotions in check. She remembered the day Lauren Reynolds became more than just a cover, and most of all, she remembered the absolute heartache when the walls around her came crumbling down. Emily resolved to compartmentalize those feelings, to tuck them away and never expose herself to that sort of weakness again. Lauren Reynolds was gone, but Emily Prentiss would never forget.

"Look, I know what it's like," she replied, "to not want to let anyone in. It seems easier, to build up the walls. Emotions are messy."

Kristina chuckled, but avoided eye contact.

"Yeah, i'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know you are," Emily shot back, "But I also know that this tough girl act is just that-an act."

Kristina arched an incredulous eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," the older woman tipped her wine glass.

"I know this because I'm just like you. You just want to do your job, and have that be enough. But you know what happens when you do that?"

She paused briefly, waiting for Kristina to meet her eye before she continued.

"You explode."

The brunette looked down at her lap.

"If you came here to get me to talk about my feelings..."

Emily stood up to retrieve more wine.

"Oh, trust me, I know better."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Kristina was fifteen minutes early to work on Monday morning, and collapsed into the chair at her desk with a sigh. Her evaluation with Agent Hotchner and Chief Strauss was scheduled for 9am.

The rest of the team showed up shortly after she did: first Jennifer with Penelope, both of them looking positively exhausted and toting to-go cups of coffee. Then came Derek, who immediately buried his head in paperwork to avoid eye contact. Emily, Spencer, and Dave were last into the bullpen, chatting amongst themselves.

Kristina glanced up to Agent Hotchner's office and saw Strauss with him, waiting for her. The young agent had faced some of the world's worst criminals in the past twelve-almost thirteen- years and didn't blink an eye, but the past six months had turned her life upside down. She felt sick, like she was dangling a hundred feet off the ground on a tightrope. Like she was seconds from falling into the abyss. She needed the Bureau. She was nothing without the Bureau.

Just before nine, Kristina scaled the steps to Hotch's office and took a deep breath. She could feel everyone's eyes on her.

"Hello Sir...Ma'am." she greeted them as she entered the room. Strauss offered her a weak smile, but the hardened team leader remained straight-faced as she slid into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Good morning, Agent Kent," Aaron finally responded, and Kristina paused.

"Is it?" she replied hopefully.

"You've done some great work this week, Agent."

A weight lifted from her chest.

"Thank you sir."

"I was hesitant, at first," he continued, "in allowing you to join this team. Normally Agents who have worked on their own for so long don't play well with others."

Kristina nodded. Strauss still had said nothing, though she was clearly studying the look on the brunette's face. Kristina had come way too far to break now.

"Chief Strauss had assured me that you were different. You came highly recommended by one of the greatest Agents the Bureau has ever had. I'm going to be honest- we might not have considered you at all if it weren't for SSA Washer. But he was right. You get 's why I'm willing to let you continue to be on this team."

Kristina paused.

"Seriously?"

The Unit Chief finally broke her silence.

"Seriously," she smiled, standing up. "Welcome to the BAU, Agent Kent. You're going to do great things here."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Sir."

Strauss's phone rang and she quickly left the office, leaving Kristina with her new boss.

"I do however, have one condition," Hotch broke the silence, bringing Kristina's attention back to him.

"I'm recommending that you see our psychologist once a week. Technically, it's not something that I can force you to do, but I think it would be wise."

Kristina's brow furrowed.

"I was already cleared for duty. I passed the psych eval."

Hotch nodded.

"Yes, you did. But those things can easily be manipulated. We're profilers. You may have fooled the folks in San Francisco, but you can't fool me."

Kristina should've known that there were no secrets in the small, close-knit unit. The look he was giving her told her that he knew everything about the incident in Philadelphia. She sighed.

"I'm not crazy, Hotch."

"You're not. You're human," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Is that all?"

He nodded.

"That's all."

* * *

><p>"She's in."<p>

Emily rolled her eyes playfully at Morgan, who leant against her desk to have a better view of Hotch's office-and the evaluation going on inside.

"You sound less than enthused."

"Yeah, well I'm not BFFs with her like you are, Princess," he shot back with a grin. The dark-haired agent resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

"I'm sorry I bailed on you, Derek."

"What could you two have possibly talked about for four hours?" He remarked incredulously, folding his arms. Emily chuckled.

"Wouldn't you like to know..."

Derek shook his head in disbelief.

Spencer approached them with two coffees in hand and dutifully handed one to Morgan, then joined him in leaning against Emily's desk.

"What are we talking about, guys?"

"How sorry she is that she missed you dancing last night," Morgan replied with a grin. Emily gasped.

"No! Really?"

Despite Morgan's pointed looks telling him to play along, Spencer shook his head.

"No, I wasn't dancing..."

"Oh, I would pay to see that," JJ teased as she popped up behind them holding a handful of files for the day.

"Who wants 'em?"

"Not it," Emily quickly replied with both hands in the air. The blonde agent grinned and split the files in half before slapping them to Morgan and Reid's chests.

"Happy Monday, boys."

Jennifer paused briefly, then turned around and followed Morgan to his desk. He could feel her presence behind him.

"You stalking me now, Jareau?" he teased, dropping the stack of files on his desk and turning to face the smaller agent.

"Oh, I have so many better things to do with my time, Morgan," she shot back with a sly grin. He playfully mimed a slap across his cheek and JJ lowered her voice.

"Lunch later, we need to talk."

He paused, noting the change of tone in her voice.

"About what?"

The blonde's eyes flickered up to Hotch's office, where Kristina emerged a full-fledged member of the BAU. She deserved it, yes, but JJ knew that the addition would require some adjustment on their part. The team could not lose their cohesion; they would have to get along.

Derek saw where her line of eyesight ended, and nodded in understanding.

"Just let me finish these," he motioned toward the files.

JJ sighed and begrudgingly grabbed half of the stack, giving him a look to make sure he knew that this was a one-time favor. Derek was grinning, trying to hide his amusement.

"Thank you."

"Shut up," she chuckled, walking back to her desk.

* * *

><p>As Derek sat across from JJ at a cafe ten minutes from the Quantico field office, he waited for her to bring up the reason for their lunch date. After the waiter brought their drinks- mango peach tea for her and a lemonade for him- the blonde agent took a quick sip and clasped her hands together on the table.<p>

"So, Derek..."

He chuckled, leaning across the table.

"Am I in trouble?"

Jennifer resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the playful agent.

"She's not going anywhere," she pointed out, not needing to clarify who she was talking about for him to understand. They both knew why they were really there.

Derek let out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair.

"I know."

"We can't keep acting like it's us versus her."

"It's not," he shot back, and Jennifer cocked her head to the side.

"Derek."

He held up both hands in surrender, knowing that he would probably never win an argument against Special Agent Jennifer Jareau.

"I can play nice," he decided, picking up the menu hoping for a change of subject.

"What's good here?"

She reached across the table and pulled down the menu with her index finger so she could see him, and let him know that their discussion wasn't over.

"Derek, I'm serious."

He frowned, studying her for a moment.

"Why do you care all of the sudden? What do you know?"

Jennifer could've told him. She could've explained how she knew what it was like to lose a sister, to be mad at the whole world, to turn all that anger into determination. She knew what it was like to question everything, to try your hardest to get back at the world by finding the answers for other people. She knew what it was like, feeling like none of it even mattered. Like there was no end to the bad things that happen. She knew what it felt like to get up every day and try your damnedest anyway.

And that's exactly why she wouldn't say anything. Why she couldn't say anything. She saw pieces of herself in Kristina, pieces that she never dared to let anyone else see. Suddenly, all of her actions made perfect sense to JJ.

"I know that work is going to be miserable if she feels like we're judging her every move," she muttered.

Derek frowned.

"I called her four times, Jayje. She ignored me. I tried."

JJ sighed.

"Then try harder. For me," she added, knowing he couldn't say no to her.

He nodded, disappearing behind him menu once more.

"Fine, I'll think of something...what's good here?"

Satisfied that he wasn't just blowing her off, she took another sip of her tea.

"Thank you. The B.A.L.T.s are great here."

"Sounds good... I _do_ like my avacado." he remarked.

Her lips curled into a smile.

"I know you do."

* * *

><p>Spencer practiced his French aloud after work while he scanned the files he requested from Garcia- he was determined to impress Kristina and his little project had taken up almost all of his free time. He even slept with the files next to his bed and read them as he fell asleep every night that week. Surely there was something that authorities missed, something that would help break the case wide open. Even in senseless violence, there is an order. Warped, sadistic order, but order nonetheless. He searched for similar modus operandi around the area, he searched for similar victims, and he read and double-checked every alibi for every known offender within a fifty mile radius. He examined teachers, neighbors, family members...but nothing was sticking.<p>

He found himself staring at a picture from the file of a young Kristina linking arms with her sister, big smiles plastered on their faces. It was taken around Christmas time, only a few months before Bridget was murdered. He could see the similarities- they both had their mother's striking hazel eyes and thick, chestnut hair. They were near the same height, same weight, same build. Kristina had inherited their father's mind and with it, the weight of the world. Bridget, it seemed, inherited their mother's optimism. Only two years apart, Kristina and Bridget were obviously close. They shared quite a few friends in high school. Bridget was more popular, while Kristina aimed for more academic pursuits.

But if you squinted your eyes, you almost couldn't tell the difference between the girls.

Something clicked in Spencer's brain, and he quickly scrambled for the report from the officer first on the scene.

Kristina had arrived home for spring break and found Bridget in her bedroom, stabbed twenty-seven times in the chest with a small, dull knife. She bled out slowly, painfully, and this was Kristina's last image of her sister.

But what piqued his interest was the wording used on the report. Kristina found Bridget in _her_ room. His heart sank as the possibility crossed his mind-what if the brutal attack was not meant for Bridget? A disorganized killer who spent no time planning, acted on impulse, and spent no time at the crime scene after the brutal act could have easily mistake the younger girl for her sister. What if they had been working the wrong angle for fourteen years?

Spencer whipped out his cell phone and dialed the San Francisco field office, thankful that there was a two-hour time difference and there would still be agents at work even though he had gone home several hours ago.

_"Barker."_

Spencer cleared his throat.

"Hello, Agent Barker, this is Agent Spencer Reid from the BAU..."

_"Agent Reid, what can I do for you?"_

"I was just looking at an old unsolved case," he looked down at the file, at the picture of Kristina and Bridget, "and I was wondering if you could help me out with some information."

_"What case?"_ Agent Barker asked, and Reid squinted to read the case file number.

"306-SF-1509."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment as Agent Barker clicked away on his computer.

_"Agent, this case is from almost fifteen years ago..."_

"I know."

Spencer could smell the confusion all the way from DC.

_ "There aren't even any suspects listed, it was ruled a random act of violence. Why are you interested in this case?"_

"I have my reasons," he shot back, "can you just send me all of the information you have on the victim's older sister; friends, co-workers, classmates, extra-curricular activities?"

Barker paused.

_"There isn't any of that in the file, Agent Reid. Isn't Kristina Kent over there with you now? In the BAU."_

"Yes she is. Can you give me the phone number for her closest relatives, then?"

_"Her parents,"_ Barker clarified, and Spencer frowned.

"That would be great, thanks."

Agent Barker chuckled as he pulled up the information Agent Reid was requesting.

_"God help you, Agent Reid..."_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Agent Kent, thank you for coming to see me today."

The brunette clasped both hands together and crossed her legs, sinking further into the couch. A woman sat opposite her, dressed to impress in a crisp white blouse and slacks.

"I didn't really have a choice, did i?"

Doctor Jameson chose to ignore the snark behind her comment.

"I suppose not...so you know why you're here, then."

Kristina nodded.

"I think it's a little ridiculous, to be honest."

This piqued the psychologist's interest.

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't need a therapist." she shot back, a furrow in her brow.

"What makes me feel better is knowing at the end of the day that i helped make the world a safer place. Taking about my feelings doesn't help achieving anything."

"Peace of mind?" She offered, and Kristina shook her head, looking up at the ceiling, remembering exactly why she hated therapy.

"Oh, I gave up on that a long time ago."

"When was that?"

"After my sister died," she shot back, trying her best to remain straight-faced.

The other woman leaned back in her chair, surprised that she had already breached that subject. Kristina looked out the window, determined not to lose her cool. She had to make it through this session, convince the woman that she wasn't crazy. She needed to get out in the field, needed a distraction.

She needed Doctor Jameson to stop looking at her expectantly.

"I don't want to talk about it," she added.

"We don't have to if you don't want to."

"I don't," she reiterated, and the psychologist quickly changed the subject.

"Okay. So then, tell me about your other relationships. Are you close to your parents?"

She should've known that they would want to bring up her family. It was psych 101-environment played a large part in development, and familial relationships were obviously a large part of that. Her parents were great people, but the relationship was severely strained. Any family who suffered a tragedy like the one they had experienced would see the dynamics change. That's what the experts said, when her mother dragged them into family therapy after Bridget's death. Not surprisingly, that didn't make Kristina feel any better.

"I don't know, not really..." she decided.

"When was the last time you talked to them?"

Kristina sighed.

"When I moved to DC."

"Which was..."

"Three weeks ago."

Doctor Jameson nodded, and Kristina wondered what conclusion she had drawn from that particular line of questioning.

Perhaps the older woman wasn't completely out of touch- she sensed Kristina profiling her and offered a weak smile.

"This isn't an interrogation, Agent Kent," she reminded her gently.

* * *

><p>Emily was halfway through her morning routine when she heard someone at the door; a furrow formed in her brow as she poked her head out of her closet, making sure she wasn't just hearing things. She couldn't imagine anyone would be at her apartment this early in the morning; she had to be at work in two hours.<p>

"What the hell..." she muttered when she heard an undeniable second knock, and crossed her apartment to answer the door.

"Good morning," Frank greeted her with a smile, holding up a brown paper bag. He stepped into the doorway and planted a kiss on her cheek as he passed her.

"I brought you something," he announced cheerfully, then turned around to face the dark-haired woman who was still in her pajamas.

"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" he added hopefully, and Emily couldn't help but smile. He was just so happy, so adorably upbeat. Emily could hardly wrestle up the motivation to brew a pot of coffee in the morning.

"No, I haven't," she finally replied.

"Good, because I got scones."

He reached into the bag and pulled out two delicious pastries. Emily chuckled.

"Amazing..." she muttered to herself.

"What was that?" his ears perked up, and the smug grin on his face assured her that he heard exactly what she said.

"Nothing. Pass the scones, would you," she changed the subject and outstretched her hand. He obeyed her order, still grinning.

"So, if you're in town this weekend...I'd like to take you out again."

Emily was about to take a gigantic bite of scone, but halted when he finished speaking, the pastry hovering millimeters from her mouth.

"Sounds great," she smiled, "maybe we could even make it a double date. I know a couple of really great single guys, I could hook Kristina up..."

"Emily," Frank held his hand up to stop her, "trust me when I say this, Kristina would never go for that in a million years."

She sighed, taking a large bite of her scone. He was right, of course. Frank always knew best when it came to Kristina. He had mentioned, over their dinner date, that Kristina would almost always shut someone out if she could sense a pity party on the horizon. She didn't want pity. Frank had also joked that, with a little wine, Kristina could be persuaded to do pretty much anything. Emily had come to her apartment well-prepared to wear the hardened agent down, and after four hours she liked to think that she had at least scratched the surface. Emily knew it was lonely, the life Kristina led.

Of course, Kristina had Frank- and he wasn't terrible company, Emily had come to find out. He was very detail-oriented. He noticed things. She had ordered almonds on her salad at Tosca; he handed her a cherry-almond scone for breakfast this morning. Kristina had warned her, after a few glasses of wine, that Frank was more about the small gestures than the big ones. That was okay with Emily, though. Sometimes, all you need is just someone who's paying attention.

* * *

><p>"Your old partner, Frank...he retired in DC, correct? How often do you see him?"<p>

Finally, something Kristina didn't mind talking about.

"Yeah, i see him two or three times a week. He's my best friend."

"Does he know you're in therapy?"

The brunette shook her head.

"No. No one knows."

The doctor arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Why is that?"

Kristina rolled her eyes.

"Because I don't need any more people thinking I'm crazy."

"Who thinks you're crazy?" she fired back, and Kristina chuckled, counting on her fingers as she spoke.

"My parents, my co-workers, my boss..."

"Why would you say that?"

She struggled with how to phrase it, and the psychologist waited patiently for her answer.

"Because I...I snapped, in the field. I almost ripped a suspect's arm off in interrogation. That's why Hotch sent me to you," she noted, surprised at the lack of reaction from the shrink. She had bigger questions in mind, it seemed.

"What did he do that caused such a reaction?"

Kristina groaned, rearing her head back and wondering how much longer the session would last. Frustrated, she realized that jumping out the third-story window was her only method of escape. And even then, if she survived, she would likely lose her job.

"He was just...he was being creepy, touching one of my co-workers," she mumbled, folding her arms.

"And you didn't like it."

"Of course i didn't," she spat, "he was practically petting her. He was a pedophile. I could've done a lot worse."

Jameson looked down at the file in her lap.

"The co-worker, that's Special Agent Jareau?"

Kristina frowned.

"What all do you have in that file?"

The shrink played it off.

"Standard information. So you were just protecting Agent Jareau from this man."

The young agent shrugged.

"I guess so."

"Your team is composed of very elite agents- why do you think she needed protection? Surely, if she were uncomfortable, she could handle the situation," Jameson offered, and Kristina sighed.

"Look, I know what I did was wrong-"

"That's not what i'm insinuating at all, Kristina," the psychologist assured her, "Suppose it were Agent Morgan in the room, would you still have reacted the way you did?"

Kristina paused.

"What are you getting at?"

Jameson could tell she hit a nerve.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I wouldn't," she conceded.

"So it's just agent Jareau that causes this reaction," the woman concluded.

Kristina shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess. What does that mean?"

"Oh, I don't know yet."

Kristina snorted.

"How much are they paying you for this?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Spence-" JJ greeted her friend on the phone as she got behind the wheel- "i'm about to leave for work, what's up?"<p>

Spencer squinted his eyes to look at the clock across the room.

"Jayje, it's only 8:30, we don't have to be at work until 10."

She sighed, strapping into her seatbelt.

"I have a lot to do today."

The young genius paused, trying to decipher her peculiar behavior.

"Will's back in town, huh," he commented, and the blonde agent frowned, both hands gripping the steering wheel.

"He's spending the day with Henry," she admitted.

Reid could tell she was less than enthused about his surprise visit- and he wasn't all that pleased with the situation either- but he chose to make her feel better about it instead of bringing up the same argument they had been having for months now.

"That's good. Henry deserves to see his dad."

"Yeah, it is..." she muttered, putting the car in reverse and backing out of her driveway. Spencer sighed.

"And it's his weekend, isn't it?"

JJ pulled around the corner a little sharper than necessary, gently bumping the curb with her left rear tire before correcting herself.

"Yes, it is."

She decided to gloss over the fact that Henry did not deserve a father who only stopped by every once in a blue moon. She had a feeling that Spencer agreed with her on that point. When Will dropped everything to move to DC, to be with Henry, she had felt such a sense of relief. All the pieces had fallen into place, it seemed.

But Will found little joy in his new life beyond that little boy. After a while, she knew he would come to resent her, for making him pick up and move across the country. For making him uproot his entire life, and his career. He tried to make it work with the DC police department, but she could tell: he was miserable. Pretty soon, that had rubbed off on her. And the rest, as they say, is history.

JJ knew there was no use in rehashing all of that now, so she changed the subject.

"So why are you calling me so early?"

"Pen and I were going to take a long lunch break today. Thought you'd be interested," he replied. He knew JJ would be needing a distraction, and Penelope Garcia was great at creating distractions.

And JJ was grateful for them.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you later, Spence."

* * *

><p>"What would you say is your worst fear?" Jameson changed the subject again, and Kristina looked down at her lap, jaw clenched as she muttered.<p>

"Failure."

"That's interesting," she remarked, "most people say dying is their worst fear."

The experienced FBI agent shook her head.

"I'm not afraid of dying. I deal with the possibility of that happening every day."

The shrink took in her words, then continued with caution.

"So why is failure your worst fear?"

"Because if i fail, somebody else dies-" she snapped and folded her arms, obviously uncomfortable- "Someone's daughter, someone's sister."

"So do you consider Nashville to be a failure?"

Kristina's jaw clenched again. She knew the answer to her question before she even asked.

"Do we have to talk about that?"

Jameson cocked her head to the side, and Kristina shrunk back in her chair as the psychologist finally leveled with her.

"I think we both know that's why you're really here, Agent Kent."

Kristina's lips tightened as she physically tried to stop the tears from clouding her eyes by sheer force of will.

"Nashville was...the lowest point of my career," she muttered.

"You and your partner had the highest rate of closed cases in San Francisco's history," Jameson noted, not missing how the woman before her was an inch away from losing her composure.

"So?" Kristina frowned.

The older woman sighed.

"So your record is still very impressive, Kristina."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she shot back with a snarl.

Doctor Jameson remained unaffected.

"Do you still feel guilty about what happened?"

Kristina dug her hands into her scalp in an effort to remain calm.

"Of course i still feel guilty!" she spoke through gritted teeth. "It was my fault- the whole case, everything fell apart because of me."

Jameson paused, lowering her voice as the brunette covered her face with her hands.

"Kristina, I need you to listen to me...Katie's death was not your fault."

"The hell it wasn't!" she frowned, hazel eyes searing right through the older woman's caring baby blues.

"Wouldn't the fault lie with the psychopath holding the match?"

"She wouldn't have been anywhere near the case if it weren't for me," she shot back immediately, a bite to her words that told the psychologist that she was on the right track for finding the source of the problem.

"Katie went into that building by herself."

"I should've been there," Kristina mumbled.

"You obviously cared a lot about Katie...but you have to know that punishing yourself for her death isn't healthy," she noted, and Kristina shook her head.

"No, you know what isn't healthy?" she spat, giving up all pretense of holding in the tears now flooding her eyes.

"Every time i close my eyes, i see her face. Every night, I hear her screaming for my help, and every night I have to watch her die, over and over. I can't sleep. And if I let any of that effect my job, then I lose the only redemptive thing about my entire existence- putting the bad guys away."

"You're allowed to be human, Kristina," she assured her.

"Can i make a suggestion?"

"You're the therapist," she sniffed, rubbing her face into her sleeve.

Glad that the confrontational portion of their talk was over, Jameson leaned back in her chair.

"I think that the reason you reacted poorly in the field may be because you are still trying to rectify past failures. That maybe, when you perceive a threat to someone, you project them to be a surrogate for the loss you suffered."

Kristina clasped her hands together, index fingers pressed to her lips as she processed the psychologist's conclusion.

"You think I have PTSD?"

"I don't think it's a ridiculous hypothesis, given the circumstances," she countered.

"That doesn't make sense-" she frowned- "i've been doing this for thirteen years, why now?"

Jameson shrugged.

"I couldn't tell you."

Kristina's jaw hung loose.

"Seriously?"

"Nobody has all the answers, Agent Kent," the older woman gently reminded her.

"Well then, what's the point?" Kristina began, but was interrupted by her cell phone in her pocket.

She checked the caller ID. It was Dave- there was a change of plans. They had a new case, and team was jetting off to San Diego in a half hour. She was saved by the bell.

"I have to go," she announced, standing up and shoving the phone back into her pocket.

The doctor nodded in understanding.

"I hope to see you again, Agent Kent."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

_3 months later..._

Derek wiped a beat of sweat off his brow and glanced across the small, dimly-lit room with a grin.

"You giving up already?" he panted, knowing his taunt would have the opposite effect on his sparring partner. True to form, Kristina bounced back with a vengeance, lightning fast punches flying left and right in a steady rhythm. The skilled hand-to-hand combat instructor blocked most of them with ease.

"Oh, is that all?" he quipped, holding up the foam targets covering his hands.

"I don't even need these."

"Derek, I swear to God..." she threatened under a mumbled breath, resuming her fighting position.

He couldn't help but laugh. She was highly competitive, and three months of experience told him she would probably spar with him all day if he let her.

"Ten more minutes, alright? I gotta shower before work."

She nodded, her hazel eyes growing darker as she motioned to the targets in his hands.

"Take off the pads, then."

He cocked his head to the side, studying her facial expressions for a brief moment.

"You sure?"

Kristina cracked a grin.

"What, are you scared?"

He chuckled, then conceded by dropping the pads to the mat.

"You're on, Twiggy. Ten minutes."

"If you last that long," she shot back, kicking the targets to the side and wiping the sweat off her face with her shirt sleeve before lunging toward him.

Derek was taken aback at first, falling to the mat when the full force of her body weight slammed into him. She had him pinned, but not for long- he rolled to the side and flipped her on her back, trapping her with both legs straddling her hips.

"Come again?" he grinned. Kristina had all but given up, grabbing the fabric of his shirt to pull herself up from the floor. She twisted in an attempt to free herself from his grasp, but he grabbed both of her arms by the wrist and pinned them above her head.

"Don't fight it...i'm bigger than you."

She finally relented, arms dramatically flopping to the floor when he loosened his grip.

"Help," she muttered feebly as he climbed off of her, "i've fallen and i can't get up."

He rolled his eyes and helped her up from the floor.

"So dramatic," he teased, grabbing a towel to pat himself dry.

Kristina reached for her water bottle and chugged half of it before replying.

"Yeah, well...you cheated."

"Did not!" he protested, flinging the towel in her direction as payback for her accusation.

"Hey, watch it," she warned him as she recoiled to dodge the sweaty towel, "i don't need your nasty all over me."

His eyebrows perked up and an impish grin spread across his face as she realized what she had said and her face scrunched up in frustration.

"Oh, whatever. Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," he shot back quickly. "See you at work?"

She pulled her gym over her shoulder and let out a deep breath.

"See you at work."

* * *

><p>When Emily woke up, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the sunlight as she rolled away from the window, toward the center of the bed. Finding the other side empty, she buried her face into the pillow with a groan. She could hear Frank in the other room, and tried to use her mind-controlling powers to make him bring her a cup of coffee.<p>

Frank popped into the bedroom moments later, with two cups of coffee in his hands and a piece of toast between his teeth. He carefully lowered himself on the mattress and Emily could feel his familiar weight return, so she propped herself up on her elbow with a sleepy grin.

"Morning," she greeted him sluggishly, squinting her eyes at the sunlight pouring through the window behind her. He handed her one of the coffee mugs and balanced the toast on his cup.

"Morning, Em. Sleep well?"

She took a sip of coffee and sat up to cross her legs before replying.

"So warm..."

He chuckled, wondering if she was talking about the steaming beverage or the fact that she had fallen asleep in his arms again last night. Their sleepovers were becoming more and more frequent and he was falling fast and hard for the beautiful woman before him.

"I would've gone to get breakfast, but you're wearing my shirt," he noted with a grin. Emily looked down at the large dark blue t-shirt she was wearing, then took another sip of coffee, holding down the mug to her lips as she replied with an impish smile.

"Oops."

He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I don't mind."

Emily relaxed into his touch, leaning into his chest with both hands cupping the mug of coffee. They stayed like this for a few moments, until enough caffeine had surged through her system to realize that she had to leave for work in twenty minutes.

"Frank," she sighed regretfully, scooting off her side of the bed, "I have to go."

He nodded in understanding, responding as she disappeared into her closet.

"Do you want to come over to my place tonight? I could cook something," he paused, lips lifting into a smile as he added, "and I promise I won't burn everything this time."

He could hear her hearty muffled laughter from the inside of the closet as she responded.

"Sounds great... I should be back around seven, seven-thirty."

Emily poked her head out of the closet and tossed the dark blue shirt across the room toward him. He smiled as he caught it and pulled it over his head.

"It's a date."

* * *

><p>Spencer swiveled in his desk chair absentmindedly, holding a warm hunter green teacup with both hands and eyeing the folder on his desk. It was a psychological consult in Dallas that requested BAU involvement. He, Hotch, and Rossi were flying to Dallas the next morning to give their opinions on the mental state of a man named Casey Langston who claimed to have no recollection of shooting a woman at point-blank range in front of at least a dozen witnesses. He had already read it, and memorized it, but something about that case really bothered him. It bothered Hotch too, and that's why the three of them were going to Dallas to see Langston in person.<p>

"You ready for tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He looked up from his desk and smiled at the older, Italian man.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"I still can't believe you're giving up coffee," he nodded incredulously toward the teacup, and Spencer brought the cup to his lips with a smile. After a few weeks of being in the BAU, Kristina had finally ripped the travel mug of coffee from his hands and handed him her cup of tea to drink instead. She told him it would help with the headaches and he knew, in theory, that it would. It was nearly impossible for him to quit coffee altogether, but Kristina Kent was nothing if not persistent. She made several cogent arguments and when those didn't work, she made even more convincing threats.

"Me either," he admitted.

"Kristina can be pretty convincing...or so i've heard," Rossi shot back with a devilish grin. Spencer set the tea down on his desk and lowered his voice.

"We're just friends, Rossi."

It was the truth. They had grown considerably close in her three months of being in the unit- in fact, he spent more of his free time with Kristina than he did with anyone else- but their relationship was more akin to intellectual soul mates than any sort of romantic spark between them. Their weekends were spent playing chess and discussing literature- he was delighted to discover she was quite a fan of 14th century poet Chaucer, and not just for _The Canterbury Tales_. The well-read agent revealed to him that she initially followed in her father's footsteps and majored in Literature in college, and even offered to share her small library with Spencer one night over white wine and take-out chicken tandoori.

She had only mentioned her sister once, in recalling a story from her childhood when her family traveled to Yosemite National Park over summer break. A fearful nine-year-old Kristina followed a brazen seven-year-old Bridget off the path, away from their parents, to the base of Yosemite Falls. Neither of them had anticipated the slippery rocks and the sheer force of the falls, and when Bridget fell she screeched for her sister to help her as the water soaked her to the bone. Kristina leaped into action, pulled Bridget up, and dragged her to safety. She joked that the Yosemite Falls incident was far from the last time she would have to bail her little sister out of a sticky situation.

Unbeknownst to her, Spencer had already heard a similar story from her parents. He wasn't necessarily keeping it a secret, but he wouldn't mind if Mr. and Mrs. Kent didn't divulge that he had been interviewing them for the past couple of months, talking about Kristina's childhood. He admired Professor Richard Kent and had even found himself veering wildly off-topic at the mention of 15th century literature during several phone calls. Still, he managed to paint a pretty accurate picture of Kristina Marie Kent's childhood. She was always eager to learn, and a fiercely protective big sister. She was naturally gifted, and strived for personal excellence in everything she did. Her mother added that she had always been stubborn, always determined to do things on her own. That much hadn't changed.

If Kristina knew what he had been doing behind her back, he was pretty sure she would be furious with him. He was not foolish enough to think that closure with Bridget's murder would bring her any sort of peace; he knew from experience, sometimes the truth hurt worse than the lie. But Spencer could see in her eyes, when the brunette mentioned her sister. He could he clarity in her hazel eyes, almost as though for a brief moment, Bridget was still alive. She deserved to look back fondly at her time with her sister, no matter how short the time was.

He couldn't get it out of his mind. It occupied every minute of his free time that wasn't spent with her. He could hardly sleep at night, which- coupled with his recent abandonment of his coffee habit and the sporadic, pulsing headaches- had wreaked havoc on his immune system. Hotch had noticed, though Reid tried desperately to hide it. The team's leader was able to limit his role in the field, assigning Spencer to tasks that required his attention at their makeshift headquarters during the case of the week. That's why the young doctor was surprised that Hotch had requested he join them on their consult in Dallas. He would never question the senior agent, but knew that he could expect a question or two regarding his new lifestyle habits.

"Hey Spence!"

Jennifer walked up behind him and rustled his hair playfully on her way through the bullpen. He offered a weak smile at the blonde agent.

"Morning, JJ."

"You ready for that consult?" She quizzed with a gleam in her eye. He rolled his eyes playfully, knowing she was teasing him about the amount of time he had spent at his desk reading over the case file.

"I think so."

JJ leaned against his desk, holding a hot mug of coffee that Spencer could smell from a mile away. When she realized the temptation she was causing for the younger agent, she winced.

"Sorry. But hey, you go have a blast in Dallas with mom and dad. We'll try to hold down the fort for you," she motioned at Derek, who had arrived and was grinning widely at the prospect of limited supervision at work for the rest of the week.

"Try not to burn the place down," Spencer retorted. Derek groaned.

"That was one time, man."

Kristina followed shortly after him, carrying a to-go cup of hot tea.

"What happened?"

"Morgan made popcorn for one of our movie nights and set the kitchen on fire," JJ replied quickly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"_Accidentally_ set the kitchen on fire," he corrected her, "which wouldn't have happened if i wasn't distracted by you ladies re-enacting a scene from High School Musical."

JJ scoffed in mock offense.

"It was from Grease, thank you very much."

"Right," he chuckled, "a musical with characters who are _in high school_."

JJ cocked her head to the side, a challenging look in her eye as she replied.

"Morgan, don't make me smack you."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Agent Hotchner leaned back in the rigid metal chair, studying the young man sitting across from him. He waited a few seconds, allowing the silence under the harsh yellow light of the interrogation room to rattle the kid's confidence. The experienced profiler wanted to establish dominance right away, to set the pace of the interview and knock Casey Langston off his game. Any rehearsed defense the twenty-five year old might have practiced during his short stint in lockup flew out the window.

"Casey Langston," Hotch began, testing the waters. The response would establish his emotional state and determine the older FBI agent's course of action.

Casey nodded, his hands shaking visibly on the table before he pulled them into his lap.

Hotch softened his voice.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

Langston's crystal blue eyes blinked shut.

"They say I...they say I killed someone," his voice wavered.

"In front of at least a dozen witnesses," Hotch added matter-of-factly.

"I don't-" Casey's voice broke, eyes brimmed with tears.

"Your file says that while you were being detained, you exhibited signs of extreme anxiety, dehydration, and a dissociative fugue attributed to possible post-traumatic stress disorder..." Hotch recapped, "you couldn't even remember your own name."

Langston covered his face with his hands as Hotch continued.

"I am here to determine the legitimacy of these claims. The degree of your sentence is based on several factors, including the level of premeditation and the cogency of the assailant during the attack. There are several holes in your story- for instance, your parents filed a missing persons report almost six months ago...there are no phone records, no credit card purchases, no ATM withdrawals, no trail at all to tell us where you were for that time. We need to establish a timeline, starting with where you got the gun."

"I don't know!" Casey was visibly agitated now.

Aaron remained calm.

"Where were you staying? Were you on the streets?"

"I don't know!" Casey reiterated, sobbing as Hotch pulled out a 8x10 glossy photo of Amber Price, the young girl who Langston shot almost a week ago.

"Have you ever seen this woman before?"

"No!" Langston shouted, and Hotch paused.

"Are you sure?"

Langston was in tears as he replied.

"...No."

* * *

><p>On Friday afternoon, Agents Kent, Jareau, and Garcia left work early to prepare for another infamous girls night out. After unsuccessfully attempting to convince Emily to ditch her date with her new beau, their wild night was downgraded to an evening with bad movies, red wine, and girl talk. Kristina volunteered to host movie night at her apartment, and rushed home to clean everything before JJ and Penny arrived.<p>

Her apartment sufficiently reeked of Lysol when she heard a knock on the door.

After a brief moment of panic induced by the lemon-scented toxic cleaning fumes, Kristina realized that she still had an hour before the girls were supposed to arrive. She collected herself and answered the door, a gust of frigid November DC air sending a chill down her spine.

"Hey Frank," she skipped the formalities, opening the door wide enough for her best friend to slide through, "Come inside, quick...it's fucking cold out there."

Frank chuckled, slacking his winter coat off his shoulders.

"You're such a wuss."

"It's below freezing, Frank," the brunette countered, "I think it's justified."

Frank cracked a grin, tossing his coat over one of the barstools at the kitchen counter and offering the slender, younger woman a warm hug, her head tucked under his chin.

"You're going to have to get used to it, Miss California. You've only been in DC for three months. It hasn't even snowed yet. Just you w..what is that smell?"

"Lysol," Kristina replied nonchalantly, "and you're not helping. I hope our next case is somewhere warm..."

"God, it's in my throat..." Frank winced, "this is a biohazard, you could kill someone."

Kristina laughed.

"Now who's the wuss? I'm just trying to clean up, the girls are coming over tonight. Thanks for stealing our Emily, by the way," she added sarcastically.

"I thought she was my Emily," he shot back, "and these reservations were almost impossible to get."

Kristina feigned disgust as she poured them two glasses of water.

"You two are gross."

"Gross?" Frank scoffed in mock offense, then grinned.

"Did I tell you she wants to set you up with another agent so we can double date?"

Kristina paused before taking a sip.

"You're kidding."

"She thinks you and Anderson would make a great couple," Frank chuckled.

Kristina nearly spit out her drink laughing.

"Anderson? Do you want to tell her, or should I?"

The younger woman continued cleaning as they continued their conversation.

"Are you getting any time off for the holidays?"

Kristina scrubbed a nondescript sticky substance from the counter with a wet rag.

"What holidays?"

"Thanksgiving is next week," Frank replied incredulously as his best friend shrugged.

"I hadn't even noticed."

Despite her attempts to pretend like there was nothing wrong, Frank knew that he would have to press the issue, to force her to confront what she was avoiding.

"Have you talked to your parents lately?"

"Not lately, no..." she mumbled, turning away from him. Frank sighed.

"Kristina, you can't-"

"I'll probably be on a case," she interrupted him, trying to shut him out. Unfortunately for her, Frank Washer had known her far too long to let that happen.

"But if you're not...you can't spend Thanksgiving alone."

Kristina sported an impish smile.

"Says you and what army?"

Frank rolled his eyes.

"I don't need an army, Kricket. Just call them. I bet they miss you."

"Frank, I can't," she insisted. Frank shook his head.

"You can. You're just scared."

"I'm not scared," she shot back stubbornly, "I'm not a child."

"I know you're not," Frank conceded after a few seconds, knowing not to press the issue any more.

"I better go get ready for tonight."

Kristina nodded.

"You crazy kids have fun. But not too much fun," she grimaced, making Frank chuckle.

"No promises."

* * *

><p>"Do you buy it?"<p>

Supervisory Special Agents Rossi and Reid stood behind a two-way mirror, watching Hotch continue to press Casey Langston for any details about the case. The younger agent cocked his head to the side, watching the suspect grow increasingly hysterical.

"It's hard to say. The line between dissociative fugue and full-fledged traumatic amnesia is very thin. He could wake up tomorrow morning and be an entirely different person. In 2008, Brian Matloff- also known as the Blue Ridge Strangler- woke up from a coma and recovered his memories over the course of the trial."

Rossi nodded.

"Like I could forget that case..."

"In any case, the polygraph and cognitive memory recognition exercises tomorrow should shed some light," Reid decided, "We're not going to get much more from him like this."

Dave couldn't help but agree- it was clear that Langston was deeply affected by the events of that day. Still, some things didn't seem to add up about his story. The young man was exhibiting classic signs that they would expect from a victim, not the perpetrator. He simply didn't fit the profile of a random shooter, aside from the glaringly obvious lack of a motive.

Spencer recalled a similar case only six months prior, where a young man only a year older than Langston was charged with shooting a woman in broad daylight. That man, Matt Pryor, was committed to a mental institution after he attempted suicide in prison. He briefly wondered if Casey Langston was doomed to the same fate. Both men were slaves to their own minds, the course of their entire life changed in a single instant. Even a PhD in psychology and an IQ off the charts couldn't help Reid fully understand the intricacies of the human mind.

Uniforms took Langston back to lockup, and Hotch joined his fellow agents in the observation room.

"Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

Rossi sighed.

"That kid was shaking like a leaf."

"He wasn't lying to me. He doesn't remember anything."

Reid strapped his messenger bag to his chest as they began to leave.

"This is very similar to a case from six months ago-"

"Matt Pryor," Rossi interjected, and the younger agent nodded.

"It's statistically improbable that two men nearly the same age would disappear for six months and resurface only to commit a random shooting in broad daylight."

"You think they were put up to it?" Rossi responded incredulously. "Isn't that even more statistically impossible?"

"Improbable," Reid corrected him.

"Stockholm Syndrome would explain a great deal of Langston's behavior..." Hotch conceded, "but we aren't here to justify his actions. We're here to help Dallas PD in their investigation."

"But Hotch, if Langston was brainwashed-"

"Where is your evidence to support that?" Hotch challenged, taking Reid by surprise, but the young doctor bounced back immediately.

"Langston had restraint marks, on his wrists," He retorted, "if we get Pryor's records, we can see if they were bound by the same apparatus."

Hotch sighed, knowing that Spencer wouldn't rest until they checked up on his hunch. To his credit, his hunches rarely were completely off base.

"I'll call the ME."

* * *

><p>"No!"<p>

_"Yes!"_

"You're kidding me," Frank wheezed, "an IQ of 187-"

"-still a bit foggy on the concept of group emails," Emily cackled, eyes squeezed shut as she remembered the latest response that Reid intended for Morgan but instead sent to everyone on their floor- including Chief Strauss.

"At least it'll give us something to laugh about at the Christmas party," Emily justified. She stifled her laughter, realizing that the entire restaurant was staring at them.

"Something other than Garcia's ugly Christmas sweater," Frank amended, and Emily almost snorted.

"Last year it had colored christmas lights that blinked on and off."

Frank paused.

"I was kind of kidding but _oh my God_..."

Emily's cell phone vibrate cut their laughter short.

"Prentiss," she answered quickly, casting an apologetic glance across the table. Frank simply nodded in understanding as she continued.

"Yes sir. Yeah, okay. Goodbye."

Emily bit her lip as she stowed her phone back into her purse.

"That was Hotch," she muttered, eyes cast down at the menu that she hadn't even had the chance to peruse before they were interrupted. "I have to go."

Frank sighed.

"I figured as much."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, exhaling a deep breath when he reached across the table to offer his hand. She instinctually laced their fingers together. "I know these reservations aren't easy to get, and I really wanted us to have this weekend to ourselves.."

He shook his head.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand. How soon do you leave?"

She winced.

"Thirty minutes."

He chuckled and stood to his feet, their hands still linked.

"I'll drive you to the airport, then."

* * *

><p>"Shit," Garcia cursed under her breath after hearing her cell phone ring from inside her purse across the room. She looked down at the sluggish, drunken brunette with her head in her lap and sighed.<p>

"Jayje," she called out to the petite woman filling their wine glasses in the kitchen, "phone. Help. Please."

"One sec," the blonde called back, filled Penny's glass to the brim and carefully carrying it with her own glass back into the living room. She dug through the technical analyst's purse and pulled out her blackberry.

"Garcia's phone, JJ speaking."

Kristina stirred from her sleep to chuckle at the former media liaison's instinctual phone greeting.

"Who is it?" Garcia whispered, watching JJ like a hawk as she listened to whoever was on the line. JJ nodded slowly.

"Mmhmm...yeah, okay. Um, hold on-" she covered the mouthpiece and winced.

"Hotch."

Kristina sat up at the mention of their team's leader.

"It's Hotch? What does he want?"

"Shh," JJ waved her off, still listening to Aaron. Kristina and Garcia giggled and waited impatiently for the agent to respond.

"Um, here's the thing, Hotch," she chuckled, still juggling two glasses of wine in her left hand, "we didn't think we'd be getting a call this late on a Friday night..."

She hesitated, and Kristina snorted at the thought of their boss realizing that one-half of his team of elite FBI agents was drunk off their asses.

"Oh god," JJ muttered, closing her eyes in embarrassment. Both of the other agents were lost in a fit of giggles. "Yes, we'll be there first thing in the morning. See you then. Thanks, Hotch," she hung up in shame, and there was a second pause before they all burst into laughter.

"We have a case," JJ wheezed, "in Dallas. Morgan and Em are leaving tonight."

"Of course we do," Kristina doubled over, "of course."

Garcia buried her face into the arm of the couch to stifle her laughter and JJ looked at the clock for the first time that night.

"Oh God, it's almost eleven...we're gonna have to sleep this off."

"Dibs!" Garcia shouted, claiming the couch as her own. Kristina chuckled.

"Suit yourself. Jen, you mind sharing a bed?"

The older woman chuckled.

"Not at all, babe."

Kristina laughed.

"Keep it in your pants, agent."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Shortly after nine o'clock, Rossi, Hotch, and Reid retreated to their hotel rooms to catch some well-earned sleep. After they requested the official investigation into the six-month-long disappearance of Casey Langston- which the Dallas Police Department needed to be convinced was even a factor- Garcia sent them at least two dozen names that fit the profile preceded by Langston and Pryor: male, mid- to late-twenties, from the Dallas metro area, and missing for approximately six months. Penelope also cross-checked Matt and Casey's lives, seeing wherever it was possible that the two men could've crossed paths, as a possible location for where they met the unsub.

There weren't any immediate hits, which meant the tech analyst would have to dig even deeper into their victims lives to find some link, even if it was the most inane connection. Sometimes, the littlest details proved to be the most important.

For now, however, the exhausted agents would wait for the rest of their team to arrive. Derek and Emily were catching a flight to Dallas any minute, and JJ and Kristina would get to Dallas sometime the next morning.

Reid pulled his laptop from his messenger bag and checked his email, pleased to find one unread email from Agent Barker, his contact at the San Francisco field office. Attached was a file containing all members of Kristina's graduating class with a criminal record, which for a small private college was a surprisingly high percentile. Embezzlement, tax evasion, insurance fraud, grand theft auto, possession, driving under the influence... and that was just the first page.

Unfortunately, none of these offenses matched the profile Reid was looking for. He clicked through the remainder of the pages, committing each name and offense to memory. Kristina's roommate was noticeably absent from the list- Mr. Kent had mentioned her as one of the few friends his daughter made that semester. Spencer had a hard time believing that a young girl could've committed Bridget's murder, anyway. Experience, and basic criminal psychology, told him that the unsub was most likely male.

His family would see nothing wrong, making excuses for his odd behavior. They would use words like "quiet" and "different" to describe him, where professionals would call him "socially impotent" and "displaying classic precursors to violent behavior". He would have few friends, staying by himself out of habit. He belonged to no clubs, no teams, no extracurriculars of any kind. His home life would most likely include a serious trauma at a young age, causing a hindrance in his development. There was also a significant chance of physical, mental, or verbal abuse. He flew under the radar for a considerably long time, if you thought of him as an eighteen-year-old ticking time bomb.

Somewhere between his fourth and fifth skim through the file, his eyes grew heavy and he decided to call it quits, knowing that the team would notice immediately if he showed any signs of exhaustion during their investigation the next day. His family was inherently more protective of the youngest member among their ranks, and he didn't need to give them another reason to worry.

Reid popped a couple of aspirin and collapsed on the bed, falling asleep within seconds.

* * *

><p>When Frank dropped Emily and her go-bag off at the airplane hangar, Derek was already in the jet waiting for her. She planted a chaste kiss on the former agent's lips and boarded the plane. Her best friend wore a wide grin as she plopped down on the seat across from him.<p>

"Hey there, miss thing. Are we interrupting something?"

"We?" Emily quipped, noting that the plane was otherwise empty.

Morgan motioned to a laptop on the table between them, where a younger man with short hair and thick-rimmed glasses waved on camera.

"Good evening, Agent Prentiss."

"Kevin, hi," Emily smiled back.

"Our dear Penelope is out of commission," Derek explained, "so Kevin is taking care of us tonight."

"That's right," Kevin nodded, swiveling absentmindedly in a computer chair surrounded by half a dozen busy computer screens. "I'm running her software to find any connections between Pryor and Langston. Nothing yet, but i'll call you the second I find something. I've also sent both files to your tablets, and you'll have wheels waiting for you when you arrive, courtesy of the Dallas field office. And might I add, Emily, you look stunning tonight," he added with a smug grin.

"Oh, Kevin," Emily chuckled, "does Garcia know you're sitting in her chair?"

Kevin paused, slight fear in his eyes.

"Gotta go."

Derek laughed as the video feed cut out.

"Good ol' Kevin."

"Yeah, it was nice knowing him," Emily remarked. Everybody knew how particular Penny was with the condition of her office- if even a single knick-knack was out of place, the offender could expect some sort of blackmail and/or death threats arriving in their email inbox within the hour.

"No JJ or Kristina?" Derek arched an eyebrow, noting the absence in the seats across the aisle where the duo usually sat.

"No," Emily laughed heartily from her chest, "Girl's night. You know how it goes."

With Derek's interest piqued, Emily elaborated.

"They prank called me as Beavis and Butthead earlier."

"Nice," he chuckled, the mental image of a drunken Kristina Kent doing Beavis impressions not soon going to leave his mind.

"You like her, don't you."

Derek was unable to look Emily in the eye. They both knew who she was talking about.

"She's got a mean right hook," he offered lamely. Emily gasped and playfully nudged his shoulder.

"You really like her!"

Morgan sighed, knowing that it was no use trying to lie to the experienced profiler.

"Emily, come on. We work together."

"That doesn't mean you can't have a little crush on her," she shot back, grinning. "I don't blame you. I mean, look at her..."

"I do not have a crush on her." he insisted.

Emily laughed.

"You are such a liar!"

Morgan groaned, throwing his head back in frustration.

"I am so done with this conversation."

"I'm just saying, if you like her it's worth a shot," Emily shrugged. "We could double date."

"That is the last thing I want to do, Princess," he cracked.

Emily winced.

"Oh, ouch!"

* * *

><p>The team was gathered in their conference room in the Dallas metro police office on Saturday morning when the results from Langston's polygraph and cognitive memory recall tests came. Rossi did the honors of opening the thick envelope, and quickly scanned the enclosed pages.<p>

"Well, it's just like we thought...he passed the polygraph."

"So he wasn't lying, he really doesn't remember anything from that day," Morgan recapped, an air of disappointment in his voice.

"What about the cognitive exercises?" Reid interjected, a furrow in his brow.

Rossi sighed.

"He had a panic attack halfway through, they almost had to sedate him."

"I guess that answers your question," Emily quipped.

Aaron was rifling through the files when Brooks, the detective assigned to the case, popped through the door of the conference room.

"Langston's family is here," he announced somberly. "Who wants it?"

"Emily, Dave," Hotch addressed them, still reading the files, "talk to the parents. Reid, see if the sister knows any of Casey's friends. Morgan and I are going to the crime scene to see if we can find any significance in the location for the profile."

* * *

><p>Casey's parents were in their late fifties. Betty was a short, plump woman whose halfhearted smile nearly broke Emily's heart when the profiler led her into one of the interview rooms at the precinct. Casey's father, John, had bloodshot eyes and looked like he hadn't slept in days. Prentiss and Rossi had spoken to many victims' families in their years in the bureau, but it never got any easier to face the innocent lives ruined by horrific tragedy. Their son was plastered all over the news, painted as a random psycho with a gun in a string of recent nationwide shootings. Though the team had some evidence to clear the Langston name in the press, for now it was advantageous to keep their theory under wraps. If the unsub knew that they were onto him, he could very well disappear, never to be seen again.<p>

As such, this was bittersweet news for Casey's distraught parents.

"So Casey is innocent?" Betty's voice was small and fragile.

Rossi didn't even blink.

"We have evidence that he may have been kidnapped about six months ago. You filed the missing persons report, is that correct?"

Betty nodded, tears brimming her eyes.

"After a while, I thought... I thought the worst."

"When do we get to see our son?" John asked, remaining strong for his wife.

"We can't answer that," Emily explained gently, "Your son has been through a significant trauma, and it's too early in the stages of his recovery to tell when he will be capable of handling visitors."

"Best guess?" John shot back, arm sliding around his wife's shoulder.

"Give it another week," Rossi pacified the agitated father.

"We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us," Emily added, trying to keep the interview on track. She pulled out a glossy 8x10 of Matt Pryor.

"Does this man look familiar to you at all?"

John's brow furrowed as he studied the picture.

"Does he have something to do with how Casey went missing?"

"No." Rossi assured him."We think the same thing happened to him. Have you ever seen him before?"

Betty slid the photo closer to her side of the table and squinted.

"No, I don't recognize him. This has happened more than once?"

"We're still looking into it," Rossi replied. Both agents wished that they could offer more reassurance, more hope, for the Langstons. With no solid leads, there was no telling how long it would be before they could give them any answers.

Reid was having even less luck with Casey's fifteen-year-old sister. The ten years of age difference meant that Charity hardly knew any of her brother's friends. The only insight she provided was a facebook update from her brother three days before they reported him missing. In the update Casey said he was going to a popular gay bar downtown with some friends. This revelation gave the team their first real lead.

* * *

><p>"...Ok, thanks, Reid," Morgan hung up with the young doctor and turned to Hotch, who was staring straight up at the street signs at the corner of Main and Willow. Several small shops lined Willow Street; a vintage clothing store, a bicycle shop, a small cafe, and a foreclosed comic book store. It was a relatively quiet corner of a district that one pedestrian called "Hipster Square". The demographics of the area seemed strictly limited to twenty-somethings, but even late on a Saturday morning there wasn't much foot traffic.<p>

"I doubt any of these businesses have security cameras that look out into the street," Hotch supplied before Morgan filled him in on his conversation with Reid.

"Langston went to a gay club before he went missing."

Aaron processed this for a beat.

"Our unsub could've met him at the club."

"This doesn't feel like a stalker case. He never mentioned anything about anyone behaving inappropriately towards him."

"We still can't rule it out," Hotch rertorted, then looked back up at the street signs and dialed Garcia.

"Penelope Garcia at your service," The technical analyst greeted him.

He paused.

"What, no witty greetings for me this morning?"

"Blame it on the alcohol, sir," she shot back. Aaron chuckled and quickly returned to the business at hand.

"I need you to run a search and track down the club Langston went to before he went missing. It's a gay bar called-"

"Zippers? Already done. I ran his financials- he's been there a half a dozen times in the past year. I checked the place out online. Seems like quite the party," she observed. "Sending you the address now."

"Thank you Garcia," Aaron replied, "and sorry for ruining your Friday night."

"Work to live, live to work," she shot back playfully before hanging up.

"JJ and Kristina's flight just got in," Derek remarked, having received a text from the latter agent while Aaron was on the phone.

"Good," the older agent sighed, "they can interview Pryor's parents back at the station. Let's go. We're not getting anything more from this."


End file.
